Like A Dream
by ctrl-issue
Summary: Slash, AU, Crossover. VirgilRichi, GLFlash, SupsBats, BatsJ'onn To keep their loved ones safe, the Defenders of Earth brought them to the Fortress. Plots arise by enemies and 'friends' alike.
1. The Chosen

_Author: Summer Starr_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Static Shock. (Though, if DC wants to take this and run with it, I'd buy it.)_

_Warnings: Slash (Virgil/Richie), Alternate Universe, slight Cross Over (with Justice League)_

_Author's Note: I'm new to this fandom, though I've been writing fanfiction since 1998. Just… how can anyone see these two and think that they –aren't- gay? I mean, seriously. _

_Ratings: R _

_Title: Like A Dream_

**Like A Dream**

Richie sighed as he ran his soapy hands over his skin. The steam from his bath rose up, through the maze of suds from the water's surface. He closed his eyes as he sank down, below the water's line to let as much of the glorious heat wash over him.

He felt more relaxed than he had in a long time, which was probably the reason he was being given all the time he needed for the bath. They wanted him to be calm. They wanted him to be relaxed. They didn't want him to be afraid.

Blond hair spiked up from the water, a quick herald before the rest of him emerged. He didn't get out just yet, instead he took the time to caress the bare skin of his arms and legs again. He felt so smooth. He felt so soft.

That was probably another reason.

Blue eyes closed briefly as he smirked to himself. He was cynical, true, but it had helped him survive.

That was all behind him, though. The streets of Dakota. Going hungry occasionally. Running as one of his school mates changed in front of his eyes into some monster. His father. It was all behind him. He just hoped the fear was behind him, as well. It didn't matter, though. He wasn't going back.

He had been chosen. He had been chosen to… serve one of the Defenders.

It was at once the best day, and the worst day of his life. Like a dream. Being chosen was considered a high honor by many, but others considered it another kind of hell. Some people believed it meant being a mistress or lover to one of the Defenders, while others thought it meant being a glorified butler, or an apprentice. Rumors abounded about what it meant to –be- a chosen one, though very few had been substantiated. None of the governmental powers were allowed in the Defender's Fortress to investigate, but none of the chosen had ever complained loud enough for an investigation.

Getting out of the tub, Richie took another deep breath. It was time. He couldn't put this off any longer. The more he dawdled, the more he waited, the more anxious he was going to get. That was the way his mind worked. He could think of a hundred different scenarios, each one of them ten times worse than the last one, and very few of them starting off all that pleasant to begin with.

He began to dry himself off, thinking about who might be the one to Choose him. With a big "C".

The Defenders were the guardians of Earth, and sometimes they acted as policemen for other parts of the galaxy. But most were human, so they stuck close to home. They also had an… affection for the human body. Which, depending upon which Defender choose him, could be a bad thing or a good thing.

Richie knew he was young. And he knew from many of the rumors that there was a specific Defender who appreciated the younger men. He was Vengeance. He was Darkness. He was Night Terror.

Batman…

The blond shivered slightly. He was called "Night Terror" for a reason. He was… terrifying.

Then there was his direct opposite. A man with a thousand kinds of vision, who was blind to so much of the world's ugliness. A man whose physical strength was nothing compared to the strength of his character. He was the last son of a dead race. He was the first everyone called when they called for help. He was the Defender's Leader, their hero, their hope.

Superman…

But Richie seriously doubted Superman would choose him. The raven-haired man preferred joy, and happiness, and laughter. He enjoyed the brighter, lighter side of life. The only bright thing to ever come out of Dakota, and there really was only ONE bright light, and he was brighter than a night full of stars, was Static Shock.

Static…

He was…

Richie shook his head. There were too many words he knew that could describe his hometown's hero, and yet, there wasn't near enough. Did he have a touch of hero worship? Yes. But it was justified.

Static showed up in Dakota, just around the time that all the Bang Babies started to. Children gifted with powers that, more often than not, turned them insane, turned them into monsters, turned them… turned them into things that should be feared. What was worse though, was that the Bang Babies were typically people he knew, people he went to school with, or passed on the street, or that his family bought groceries from. Once they got that power, though… it was as if all the slights that they had suffered, all the pain and anguish and resentment, intensified.

And as a result, people died.

Like Virgil.

No one really knew what happened to Virgil Hawkins, his late, best friend. No body was ever found. But when there are people on the street that can melt cars by touching them; that can cut through light posts as if it was melting butter; that can walk through shadows… Well, no one really –expects- to find bodies anymore. '_But Static fights them. Captures them. Gets the Bang Babies off the streets. Makes life just a little more simple, a little more normal, a little more bearable._'

If only Static had somehow managed to capture his father, take him away… If the Defender had been able to do that, then Richie would have called him a god, not just a hero.

Finished with drying, he placed the towel neatly on the towel bar and went out of the bathing chamber where several people were waiting for him. They began to groom him, dressing him, brushing his hair. They removed the little studs he had in his ears, and replaced them with gold hoops. Around his wrists, they placed gold bands. Instead of pants, he was given a small white cloth to wrap around his waist like a bath towel, or skirt.

Richie grimaced, but didn't complain. They were trying to expose as much of him as they could while still remaining decent. With as many other people that were there to become a Chosen themselves, he needed any advantage he could find.

There was always the chance that no one would want him. But, if that was the case, he wouldn't be sent back to Dakota. Instead, he would be sent somewhere where he could start a new life, maybe attend school. Get a real job, as far away from Dakota as he could get. Maybe he could learn Swedish...

Lastly, they handed back the blonde's glasses. The 17 year old took them gratefully, finally able to see again. He wasn't given time to look at himself in the mirror, though, as they were pushing him towards the door. Towards his fate.

The young man took a deep breath and walked forward, meeting his guide at the door. It was just his luck that his guide was a mute. As they walked, Richie bit his lower lip, still worried over who might Choose him. The grandeur around him was lost in the haze as his thoughts whirled in a prism of colors and drama.

He knew most of the Defender's pretty well, if only by names and powers, but that was how everyone on Earth knew them. Only their Chosen ones knew more than that. Only the Chosen knew their secrets.

Which was probably why those Chosen never left the Defender's Fortress, and never complained.

There was the Traveler, the Emerald Guardian, the one who –never- took the time to even bother with choosing someone, as he was always, well, traveling.

Green Lantern…

There was also the one that was as fast as thought, as fast as lightning. But he never kept interest in anyone long enough to Choose them. He lived life twice as fast as anyone else, so he was easily bored with anything new that came to his attention.

The Flash…

Truth of the matter was, most people understood that the only thing that really kept The Flash's attention was going on a trip with the Green Lantern. The dark skinned Defender was the only one who really seemed to keep the red suited speed freak in line while still being his friend.

Richie took another deep breath, approaching the large entrance to the grand hall, where the Defenders were gathered to choose a new Chosen among the many, many, many new prospects.

The blond had no idea what to expect as he waited outside the doors, but he certainly didn't expect to see a familiar face walking up to him. Well, as familiar as one can be with a visage that had only been seen on a television set.

Static…

"Hey Richie, I didn't expect to see you here!" Static said that bordered on overly bright, and insanely familiar. Familiar, even though no one had been able to actually hear Static speak. Defenders weren't known for giving press conferences. The electric youth smiled, approaching the hopeful candidate. He tossed his head to the side, sending a few of his long dreadlocks out of his face. He picked up his shield, which sometimes doubled for his mode of transportation as he slid through the air on magnetic currents, and slung it over his shoulder like a backpack. Static was wearing his usual attire of a black shirt with a gold circle and lightning bold blazingly displayed, a blue and yellow trench coat, blue pants, and sneakers. And gloves, of course.

The bespectacled youth was momentarily speechless. First, Static knew his name. Second, Static called him –by- his name. Third, Static was smiling at him. Smiling! At him! Richie opened his mouth to comment, but all that came out were a few unintelligent syllables.

Static, being the hero that the blond knew him to be, didn't even notice. Instead, the African American Defender tilted his head to the side and began to look Richie up and down in a way that left the blond even more flustered than before. "And hey, what –are- you doing here?"

"He's here to become someone's Chosen." A low and menacing voice said. From the shadows beside the door, a figure emerged, cloaked in shadows so dark that Ebon, the local terror of the streets in Dakota, would have been more than envious. Richie automatically took a fearful step back, his eyes going wide as he tried to think of somewhere else to be, somewhere to run to. His heart was filled with ice as Batman stepped completely into the light.

"What? You're kidding me!" Static turned to the shadowy figure, stepping between the pale youth and the caped Defender, surprise written all over his face. While the white mask and blue shades were decent at hiding his identity, as no one really knew –who- Static was, the dark skinned Defender's face was far to expressive to be hindered by them. Dark eyes turned to regard Richie again, and there was another emotion, one that the blue-eyed male had no understanding of.

Richie lowered his eyes to Static's feet, taking notice that he wore regular sneakers, and not some formal, fancy suit. "It's true. I'm… I'm here to become someone's Chosen."

Even as the last syllable was said, the doors to the main hall opened, and Richie's blue eyes darted that way, his cheeks flushed. The light, though… The light was blinding! This was it. He turned and bowed slightly to the two Defenders in front of him, and then walked into the great hall.

He was excited, and scared, and nervous, and terrified, and intimidated, and… and… and a slew of other things that he didn't bother to pinpoint or to catalog. He knew, though, that his skin was flushed, and his mouth was dry, and he wasn't completely sure that the gravity in the room was as it should have been. His head felt light while his feet felt heavy as his guide directed him where to go….

Behind him the doors closed, leaving Richie standing in a large, pale circle on the floor, a light shining directly down on him. Around him, sitting on what seemed to be apitheatre seats, the Defenders were gathered; some were lounging, some were sitting, some were standing. Blue eyes quickly took notice that Green Lantern was talking with The Flash up in the higher rows; the two of them were leaning towards each other, obviously talking softly about something very important. Superman was surrounded by some of his other Chosen people, doting on him.

There was the Amazon, the woman-lover, the man-hater. The one who was rumored to be as strong as Superman, but had the temperament of an avenger.

Wonder Woman…

There was also the Martian, the shape shifter, the mind reader. The last of his kind, just like Superman, but who did less to fit in with a race he barely understood. He was a detective, just like Batman, but… somehow, even though was so much more than Batman, he still wasn't as absolutely terrifying as the Night Terror.

Martian ManHunter…

There was also the King of the Sea, the merman, the one who was more tolerated as a Defender than actually sought out as a hero. The one who was as likely to bomb the mainland, as he was to defend it.

Aquaman…

There were others there, others that Richie barely knew, or knew enough about that he didn't care to know more. Though, if any of them chose him, he was going to be learning a great deal about them. His eyes easily caught SuperGirl, Green Arrow, Hawk and Dove, Captain Atom, and Cyborg.

Since his guide had motioned for him to stand there, Richie did as he was told, wondering what was going to happen next. It was as if he was standing on an auction block, with the way the rest of the room was either looking at him, or pointedly ignoring him. From outside the ring of light surrounding him, the blond made out a figure walking towards him. He perked up slightly, straightening as he thought that someone was going to either dismiss him or bring him into his or her fold.

To his utter amazement, an arm draped over his shoulder and a familiar voice stated, loud enough that the entire room could hear it, "I don't think so, Geeves. This boy is from my hood. And I'm plannin' on keeping what's mine."

"Are you sure, young Master Static?" The stranger asked in a thick, English accent.

"Oh, yeah." The young Defender grinned, tightening his arm around Richie's shoulders.

Wide, blue eyes turned to stare at the dark skinned hero. There was no doubt that Static was being very serious, but Richie still found it incredible that his hometown hero… Static's –arm- was around –him-. Static Shock wanted to Choose -HIM-!

Around the room there was a mild chuckle, and even soft laughter, as Richie was led out of the room. As far as the blond knew, Static hadn't ever Chosen anyone. EVER. So, this was a new thing, a thing that Richie was very pleased about. Quiet and quick, the blond followed the dark-skinned Defender out of the main hall, to… wherever.

"So… wow." Static said, "You're really willing to just sign yourself over to being someone's Chosen? I mean, I know… I know you didn't have it good in Dakota, but… still. To take that kind of chance?"

"What chance?" Richie asked. "The worse thing that could happen would be I'd be beaten bloody. You know Dakota. That's a daily 'chance' for most, and for some of us, it's a daily reality. The best… well…"

"The best, you get to be… mine!" The young Defender said, sounding about as old as the rumors suggested he was. They traveled down long, well lit corridors, twisting through a maze of labyrinth like hallways, until they finally arrived at what seemed to be their destination.

"Well…" Richie stated quietly, "I had no idea who was going to pick me or what was going to happen. There was always the chance that I'd just be shipped off and written off."

"Hardly." Static snorted, pushing against a seemingly invisible panel. "Defenders… Defenders are like everyone else. We love our comforts."

"Yeah?" The blond asked as he followed the masked male into the room. There was no fear in his voice, just pure curiosity as he asked, "I take it, that's what I'm here for? To… comfort you?"

"In a manner of speaking." Static agreed. "If you want to."

If he said anything after that, Richie wasn't sure. He was too busy looking around his new surroundings. He knew, from what others had told him and from what he had been instructed when he first arrived at the Fortress, that he was going to live here, with Static, now that he had been Chosen. The room, if it could really be described as such, was a cross between a war zone, and every shop in the mall. Music discs, movie discs, clothes, knickknacks, memorabilia, autographed posters, bedding, old food, and other assortments that the blond was unable to identify without a biology lab on hand, littered the floor and every other surface that was eye level. He smiled softly as he shook his head. Quietly, his heart dying all over again with the pain of not quite faded memories, he said, "You're room reminds me of a friend's."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah…" And Richie wasn't able to keep the sadness out of his voice as he moved deeper into the chaos. It had been over two years since he had last seen Virgil, but just thinking about the other male made his heart hurt. He missed him… "How do you find anything in here?"

"Mostly luck." The other male replied, coming up to stand behind and to the side of the blond. "So… you gonna tell me what friend you're talking about?"

"Hm?" The bespectacled male murmured, turning to regard the masked male. "Why?"

"Because you sound so sad when you mentioned him." Static replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh…" Richie shrugged. He turned away from Static to focus on something, anything close at hand. It just happened to be his reflection in the television. It wasn't just the similarities in the room that made Richie's heart hurt; he was beginning to notice other things. "It doesn't matter."

"Sure it does." The other male replied, waving a hand at his futile attempt at dodging the subject.

Taking a deep breath, Richie looked around the room, but this time he didn't see any of the mess. He only saw memories. Not for the first time, he wondered how tall Virgil would have grown if he would have been allowed to grow up. He wondered if they would still be friends. He wondered if Frieda and Virgil would have gone to the prom, or if Virgil might have been willing to go with him. He wondered a hundred different things. But mostly, he wondered what Virgel would think of him. "He… was my best friend. Really, the only one I had in high school. Kinda didn't make that many friends. But, he… He was awesome."

"Was?"

"He's dead." Richie answered, staring at the top layer of … stuff covering the floor. He swallowed past a spike of pain in his throat. "A Bang Baby, we think."

"You think?"

"No body was ever found."

"So… he could still be alive, right?" Static asked, his voice raising in pitch at the end. Not in the way that a young teenager's voice would crack, but in the way that someone who's under a lot of stress or anxiety sometimes did. "I mean, what if he's still alive?"

"No." The blond shook his head sadly. "If he was alive, his old man would know. But… no… he's already started trying to move on."

"Oh…" Static whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, huh? What? Oh, don't worry. You're still our hero. Even Sharon, who isn't easy to impress at all, is a big fan. I mean, you're always there to take care of the situation, and to make sure that no one else gets hurt." Richie said in a rush, turning quickly to try to comfort his hero. His eyes caught sight of another door, off to the side. Distracted, he finished lamely, "You… just came too late to help Virgil."

"Richie…" Static began, raising his hand to put it on the blond's shoulder, but the new Chosen one was already moving towards the nearest doorway, and the hand fell on empty air.

"It's cool. Like I said before, don't worry about it." Richie shrugged, his interest focusing on the darkness in the room. It was so dark inside the room that he almost expected Batman to materialize out of the shadows, but once he stepped inside…

It was the bedroom.

And judging by the lack of other doors, it was the –only- bedroom. And while it was large, and filled with a seemingly bare minimum of objects and artifacts, there was one thing that no one who passed through it wouldn't notice. The bed.

It. Was. Huge!

And messy, but he expected that after seeing the disaster zone that was the living room. But the bed itself… Large oak posts, that were an easy foot in diameter, had heavy wrought iron decorations crossing them at the top, so that over the mattress itself, there was a huge "X" shaped decoration, not to mention that they were joined at the sides to increase stability. The top mattress came up to Richie's midsection, though there was thankfully a stepping stool close at hand. There were pillows thrown about, and piles of blankets falling off the bed, in more colors than Richie had seen in one room.

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if they would be sharing the bed, but Richie was an intelligent young man. He didn't bother to ask the obvious. He heard the electric Defender come up behind him, but he didn't say anything. Richie guessed that he was waiting for some kind of question or response to the room.

Not for the first time today, Richie was struck speechless. He was going to be sharing Static Shock's bed. He was going to be sleeping with Static! He didn't bother to stop the idiot grin that slipped into place, and the all body flush that crept up on him went unchecked as well. Butterflies danced merrily in his stomach even as his heart took residence in his mouth, pounding thickly

Yeah, there were definitely worse fates than the one he was faced with. Definitely.

Before anything could come of it, though, a strange chiming noise was heard. Both males turned to the front door, but it was Static who called out, "Enter."

Into the disaster zone that was Static's living room, they both went to greet their visitor. The doors slid open to reveal Green Lantern. "Hey kid, hope you've had time to introduce your … friend to his new home."

"Why? What's up Lantern?" Static asked, immediately transforming from a youthful host to an interested Defender.

"There's an uprising in the MegaZone." The green-eyed veteran said, jerking his head toward the door, and another day in the glamorous life of a hero.

"Right. Be there in a second." Static nodded. They both watched as Green Lantern spun on his heels and left the messy living room. Some of Static's dreadlocks fell in his face as he turned to look at Richie, but he swiped them out of his way before he pointed in the direction of the kitchen. "There's food in there, the bathroom is connected to the bedroom, and if you need anything, just push the panel by the door. Other than that, the place is yours. I'll be back… whenever."

"Okay." Richie replied, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "What about…"

"What about what?"

"Uhm… never mind." Richie shook his head as he looked at the ground. He wanted to ask if he really was supposed to sleep with the young superhero, but decided that instead of asking, he could always sleep on the sofa and be told later that he was supposed to. Save him some embarrassment if he wasn't.

"Okay." Static nodded. And with a flare of light, the electrical defender was racing out the door and to lords only knew where.

-+-

Richie shifted where he slept, slowly becoming conscious to the dark world around him. Frowning slightly, he realized that there was something touching his face. He swatted at the disturbance, trying to rid himself of it so that he could return to the blissful realm of dreams.

For a moment, the distraction left, but it quickly returned.

Blue eyes blinked open, still cloudy with sleep. Leaning over the couch, and therefore over him, a dark blob, with yellow and white and blue blobs decorating it, waited. Richie blinked his eyes a few more times, trying to figure out what, or who, he was staring at.

"Hey, Richie…" Static's voice was soft, and eerily familiar to the still sleepy blond. "What are you doing out here? There –is- a bed."

"Mmn, yeah." Richie replied. "Didn't… know if. If you wanted me to sleep there. 'cuz, ya know, it's your bed."

"Heh." He obviously shook his head. Richie fumbled for his glasses, placing them on just in time to watch Static brush more of his dreadlocks back. Again, there was a sense of familiarity. "C'mon. The bed is –way- more comfortable than the sofa."

"M'kay." Richie replied. He rolled off the sofa, and landed unceremoniously to the ground. He picked himself up and trudged to the bedroom. Before he could flip on the light, the other male flipped his hand and the lights snapped on. With a small shrug, the blond climbed into the bed, pulling the covers up to his lap. But instead of going back to sleep, he watched the doorway that led to the bathroom, where Static had disappeared through.

He heard the shower running after a moment, and he had to smile to himself. He couldn't imagine, yet, what the Defender looked like sans clothes, but that didn't stop him from trying. While his imagination was given free reign, it also took the time to show him some very… interesting ideas about what the supercharged hero might want from him later. And none of those ideas were at all that bad. Just the idea of his pale skin pressed up against Static's dark was enough to send blood running from his brain to a more neglected part of his anatomy.

The sound of the water cutting off cut off the stream of heated daydreams playing through Richie's mind. A few more moments, and the unmasked, un-costumed form came out of the bathroom, wearing only a pair of light blue sleep pants.

Blue eyes blinked.

The dark figure smiled and started to walk forward.

Blue eyes blinked again.

The young hero laughed softly, shaking his head, and sending his long dreadlocks twitching over dark skin.

Richie's entire body twitched.

"So, first off, I'm not dead." Virgil said as he walked over to the other side of the bed. He jumped up and landed on his knees on the top of the covers. "Second, no one is allowed to know."

Richie stared at him, too mind-numb to listen. Carefully, he leaned forward with one hand extended. His eyes were wide behind his glasses, but he couldn't bring himself to actually –touch- the other male. He watched as Virgil reached out and grabbed his hesitant, shaking hand.

One dark thumb fit perfectly in the cup of Richie's palm as he pulled the paler male's hand against his chest. "I'm real, Richie. Seriously, I'm not dead. See."

"You're… you're not dead." Richie repeated. "I'm not dreaming. You're real. And you're not dead."

Virgil had the nerve to smile, as if he was pleased that Richie had come to realize such a simple truth. If it had been any other time, and if Richie had been able to get his heart from hammering so fast that the blood never managed to get any oxygen to his head, he might have hit the darker male. Might have made Virgil eat those words. As it was, he merely grabbed the super hero by the neck and pulled him forward for a hug that denied either one of the chance to breathe.

At first, Virgil was hesitant, but he was soon returning the hug for all he was worth, pulling the blond against him tight enough to crack bones. He buried his head in the curve of his Chosen's neck, his lips caressing bare flesh. "I missed you."

The next thing Virgil knew, Richie was pushing him away, the blood finally able to get some oxygen to his brain to figure out more of the situation. "You missed me? You –MISSED- me! V! Do you have ANY idea what kind of hell you up and leaving put me through? Do you know what kind of hell your DAD has been going through! And Sharon! Sharon's turned into an old maid, ordering your dad around and making sure he eats and she's even stopped complaining that I sleep in YOUR room more often than I sleep at my place. Hell, she's even started to have a running dialog with my MOM about MY school work!"

Virgil's eyes flew wide at the sudden, and unprovoked, or so he though, attack. The verbal attack was nothing compared to the sudden, and unmistakable feel of a strong right hook that hit him square in the jaw.

"You –MISSED- me? You jackass!" Richie hissed, tears in his eyes. "You've been up here, playing hero, while we've been down there, trying to just –survive- as just about everyone and their GRANDMA turns into a… a… freak hell bent on KILLING US!"

Virgil's eyes narrowed as he blocked several more sloppy punches that Richie threw at him, before he finally managed to get his hands around the blonde's wrists. He pinned the paler figure to the bed, and straddled the other boy's torso. Dark eyes flashed with electricity and anger, meeting a hurt and angry blue gaze, as he snapped back, "Is that what I am, Richie? Am I one of those…freaks!"

Just hearing the darker male say it had a lot of Richie's anger deflating. He broke the staring contest and looked away, the tension in his body turning liquid and spilling away from him. "No."

"Yeah? Funny. Somehow I don't believe you." Virgil snapped back. He pushed up and away from the other male, and crossed his arms over his chest. "I… I –know- I'm a freak. I've known it since my powers… manifested. I… I just never expected YOU to hold it against me."

As Virgil made his way to climb off his friend, but Richie surprised him again. The blond sat up and hugged him, around the waist, his forehead pressed against the darker male's sternum. They sat that way for a moment, before the silence was broken by Richie's soft, "'m sorry."

Virgil sighed, surrendering. Carefully, aware of what happened last time he returned one of Richie's hugs, he wrapped his arms around the blonde's shoulders. "Yeah, well…"

"You aren't a freak. A jerk, yes. A jackass, yes. A royal prick for not telling us you were alive, yes." Richie informed him, his voice still quiet. "But you're not a freak. You're… just Virgil."

"And you're an idiot." The super powered teen snorted and shook his head. But he lowered his head, so that he was able to rub his nose against the top of Richie's head. They stayed like that for a few heartbeats longer, as they tried to figure their own thoughts out. But, Virgil's exhaustion, momentarily delayed from the shower and quick fight, ambushed him and sapped him of what little strength he had left. "C'mon, let's sleep. Tomorrow… tomorrow I can explain everything."

"Okay." Richie replied, not the least bit tired.

Virgil was the first to find sleep, curled up behind Richie with both arms wrapped around the blonde's waist. For the first time in a long time, Richie felt safe as he relaxed into the embrace. As he drifted off, he was almost certain he felt the softest brush of lips against the nape of his neck.

But it could have been a dream…


	2. Dark Disciples

_Author: Summer Starr  
__Disclaimer: I don't own Static Shock. Or Justice League. Or Batman. Or Superman. Or, hell, anyone else you might recognize.  
__Warnings: **Slash** (Virgil/Richie, GL/Flash), **Alternate Universe**, Cross Over (with many DC superheroes)  
__Author's Note: Originally, I had intended for this to be a one-shot. However, my beta AND my editor were both, "This is really good… for a first chapter." Yeah. So, this is obviously going to be chaptered. And with a plot! If some of the Breed seem OOC, then it's my fault because I don't have as good a handle on them as I'd like.  
__Ratings: M  
__Title: Like A Dream_

**Like A Dream  
**Part Two

The day was alive with hundreds of people moving around, trying to live their meaningless lives, like ants on the street. If it hadn't have been for the chemical explosion, the Big Bang, she would have been down there with them.

Trying to exist in a world where her biggest problem was her Mexican accent and what fool boy was trying to get into her bed. Trying to exist in a world where no one ever looked up unless they were praying. Trying to exist in a world where... where she could have gone home at night. Trying to exist in a world where...

Where she didn't have to be what she was, where she at least had the chance to pretend she was... something else. Something normal.

She wasn't normal, though. Now... Now, she was something else. Not more than human, like the others swore, but she wasn't positive she was less than human either. She was... something else. Different.

She was definitely different.

Orange and bronze feathers rustled as she shivered, but it wasn't because of the soft breeze drifting over her. No, it was more due to the internal chill she got whenever she thought about what had happened. She had relinquished her original name of Teresa in favor of her new name, Talon. She didn't feel right being called by her human name. She hadn't gone home since the transformation, either. Her parents... They wouldn't have understood. And this way, it saved them some pain.

In the end, she had discovered a new family. Of sorts.

The Breed.

She couldn't say she loved the rest of them, but some of them were nice. Some of them. Some of them weren't so nice. Some of them were downright creepy.

She sighed as she tapped her headpiece, willing it to project the signal to begin. It was getting later in the day, and she didn't want to be stuck on this perch for too much longer. Not that she minded the breeze, but she was getting bored. And when she was bored, she began to think. And when she began to think, she began to regret things. And she didn't want to have to deal with that. At any time. So, it was best to keep busy.

Today was supposed to be a busy day. A very busy day.

It was market day.

The day when Ebon selected someone from Dakota, always a meta-human, always a Bang Baby, to showcase to the outsiders interested in... new talent. It was Talon's job to record the events, and then Shiv was to edit the film so that it would highlight their star in the best possible light. After that, they would broadcast the end result to bidders who could be anyone from military across the seas to well-known crooks like the Joker. Only Ebon knew all the details, but more often than not, he would tell the others.

In a way, it was a lot like Ebon was the new Marketer, selecting people to become Chosen to the underworld, Dark Disciples. Instead of being chosen by Superman, or Batman, or any of those other self-proclaimed heroes, they were going to be chosen by someone a bit more realistic.

Besides, it wasn't like any of the Bang Babies had a chance to be selected by a Defender. Defenders preferred humans, or at least human-looking Chosen. And the people in charge of selecting potential chosen were extremely picky, even with the all-too-human-looking people. Fact of the matter was, only a handful of people from Dakota had even been selected as a servant to one of the Defenders, and only them because they went out of the city to apply.

The last one had been someone her age, some geek kid she barely remembered. Just some nobody who got high grades. But he was human, and he was smart, and as desperate as everyone else to get out of Dakota. He was willing to do anything... or anyone, it seemed, to get away from this pit, this black hole on the face of the planet. She just wondered how long it would be before he was back.

If he returned. A lot of those selected to be chosen never returned. If they were picked by a Defender or not, they never returned. Because of this, most people weren't too sure if being selected as a potential Chosen was a good thing or a bad thing. But for some, like those in Dakota, it was a way out, and therefore, it was a good thing.

Being Chosen.

It wasn't like any of the Bang Babies would ever -be- Defenders themselves. Maybe it was because they were just too frightening. Or because most of them went mad. Who knew?

Which brought Talon back to the job at hand.

A lot of those that the outsiders selected from among them, those that they picked, that became Dark Disciples, were never heard from again, either. Some made it onto the news; some made it into the limelight. But others... others just disappeared.

"Yo, are you sure you want to do this?" she hissed, hoping the wind didn't steal her words away from the microphone as it pressed against her jaw line.

"Are you kidding me?" came the softly mocking response. Even though Hotstreak was somewhere down below, where she couldn't quite see him just yet, she was more than able to see his smirk, just by listening to his voice. "This is my chance to get out of Dakota and into the Big Time!"

Talon sighed as she shook her head. "If you're sure, then get on with it. I haven't got all day!"

"Not yet," came the quiet reply. "There's still time. I want there to be a lot of people around. It'll give me more chance to show off. Besides, last time I checked, it wasn't like you had a hot date tonight."

"Don't go there, Francis," she growled, low and dangerous. She knew he hated it when people called him by his real name. He hated his real name. Talon, on the other hand, wished her real name still fit her. Hotstreak was able to pass as human, if he wanted to, and for that reason alone, she was jealous of him. Envious, but jealous too.

"Right, right," he replied. "Sorry."

"Just get on with it," she snapped, bringing up the digital camera.

Over the rush of wind of yet another breeze, she was able to hear him snickering, "Heh. As you wish!"

Then, below her at street level, the world exploded into flames.

Talon worried her lip as she peered through the unflinching eye of the camera. This was not her first time filming a friend who was hoping to get away from Dakota. Not the first time she was filming someone who carried such potential for life and death. But somehow, she had always imagined Hotstreak would stay in Dakota.

Fire, as an element, was one that mankind used, though every child was taught at an early age that it was dangerous. Talon knew that, just like every other gift in life, there was a flip side. As friendly as a Christmas fire could be, crackling in the fireplace, it was just as happy to rage throughout a person's home devouring everything, and sometimes everyone, in its path. Used properly, fire could provide energy, warmth, and it could be used to cook. Used with malice... well...

She wasn't sure, but she believed she had heard or read somewhere that ancient people once treated fire as a god.

She toggled the focus, zooming in on Francis's face. Sometimes she liked to watch him, just like a small candle flame or a merry little campfire. He could be so... pretty at times. '_Like a moth to a flame, girl. Bad business.'_ When he released the rage within, though, letting his power just -go-, some of his rougher edges seemed to melt away. His smile was so much brighter, so much more genuine. And his body moved easier, as if all the tension and anger he felt towards the world had been purified in his own flames, burned away.

He enjoyed his power. It was easy to see, and she made sure the unforgiving lens of the camera captured that innocent joy he had as he destroyed the world around him.

She checked the time, knowing that they were on a timetable. Soon, all too soon, the only Defender who routinely came to Dakota would be showing up. And then there would be the expected fight between him and whatever meta-human was on the rampage. Though, she had to admit, Hotstreak went out of his way to fight him. No one else, really, just him. Francis would ignore cops, and the Freak Patrol, and everyone else, including Ebon's orders sometimes. Talon had to wonder about Hotstreak, because sometimes he went out just -looking- to pick a fight with this one... person.

Talon and the others from the Breed knew their genesis. They knew they came from the dock explosion, from all those chemicals. That mixture had bombarded them, changing them, and then had rode the air currents to change others of Dakota. Not as bad as them, as they had been right there at the heart of the storm, but very few people remained unaffected.

But no one knew where Static Shock was from. He just... showed up one night with his eyes cracking electric fire and his power dancing around him in bright sparks.

Power...

She had a moment to think of some of the others that she had taped. She had watched them as they performed their little dance with whatever power they had. Sometimes they remained unaware of their power until pushed to their limits, and it was because of this that some of their lot went as slaves rather than as Dark Disciples. Still... she hadn't thought that she would ever be looking through the lens down at Hotstreak.

He was high up on the food chain in Ebon's gang. He was powerful here. But once he left, he was going to be a small match in a big, big house.

That's why she was staying. She was a freak anywhere, but at least in Dakota it wasn't -as- abnormal to have feathers. Besides, if she left, she really would be a small, small bird with far too much sky around her.

And with that much sky, it's a long, long way down to fall.

Not that she wanted to live in a cage or anything.

As if on cue, a new figure entered the scene.

Talon hissed softly at the expected and still unwanted interruption. She panned the camera, trying to get as much of the explosive battle on tape as she could. The camera's eye never flinched as the temperature on the street below her rose to a fever pitch, the area seeming to waver before her as the heat caused illusions.

She began to bite her lower lip as she unconsciously began to focus on the only Defender who was almost exclusive to Dakota.

Static Shock.

Talon zoomed in on the young Defender.

There seemed to be no end to Static Shock's arsenal of gifts. His power could be used as a shield; it could be used as a weapon; it could be used as a ride; it could be used to pick stuff up off the ground and tossed at your or away from you as if it was a piece of balled up paper.

"Talon," came a muffled, hissing curse. The feathered female jerked in place, but the movement thankfully didn't translate to the camera.

"Yeah, hot shot?" she shot back, panning the camera out when she realized who she had been focused on. She blushed under the bronze feathers.

"Time to go. I've had enough of this punk and his lame-ass lines."

"Your wish," she muttered, flipping off the camera. She was slightly embarrassed that she had gotten so much of Static on film, but she knew she had enough of Francis, with what she caught today and from some of their older reels. Without looking, she reached down to her wrist to change the frequency of her microphone. "Hey, Ebon?"

"Yes," came the smooth reply. Even over all the miles, and through all the walls that separated them, Talon could still hear the strength and danger in his voice, as if he was standing right next to her.

"Hotstreak needs help getting his rear out of the fire."

"Right." And the transmission was over.

It was time to go home. Or at least, it was time to return to the lair.

-o0o-

Richie woke up alone. It was the first thing he noticed and the last thing he expected. When he realized that the past few weeks of 'training' -hadn't- been a dream, that he really was a new Chosen, he had expected to wake up with Virgil. Especially considering the other teen had promised an explanation. Richie pulled on his glasses as he got up from the giant bed and shuffled out of the room.

His eyes were immediately bombarded with the hideous sight of the disaster known as the living room. The blond shook his head and immediately began to clean it. He knew that Virgil didn't mind the mess, but he did. He didn't like not knowing where things were.

It didn't take him long to sort out the videos, the CDs, the who-knew-how-old food, and the dirty laundry. There were other odds and ends and things that Richie figured he'd need a lab to figure out what they were. When the sorting was done, the new Chosen proceeded to organize things, such as putting the movies on the shelves, arranged alphabetically, and then music in their selected area, also arranged alphabetically.

The laundry went into one big pile in the bathroom. The other things, the things that Richie had no clue what they had started life out as, went into another pile, only this one was closer to the door so that he could ask.

And then he was done.

"Well, that didn't take long," the young male told himself. He walked around the living room one more time, making sure things were picked up and in order, and then went to take a shower. He still had only the small skirt that they had given him when he first arrived, so he had to wear it again. Not that he minded or anything, but it did get a bit drafty. He eyed a pair of Virgil's sweat pants, but decided against it. He'd go with what he had, and he'd wait for the darker male to come home before he'd ask to borrow some clothes.

While he was in the shower, he realized that he was hungry. Rather, his stomach let out a loud growl, demanding to be fed. He grinned as he turned off the water. Quickly drying off, he wrapped his skirt back around his waist then padded into the kitchen with water still dripping from his disheveled hair and droplets glistening off of his shoulders.

He ransacked the shelves and the refrigerator, trying to find something edible. He came back with a couple of cans of tuna fish, some crackers, some expired milk, and some cereal. "You gotta be kidding me! What, did he inherit Sharon's cooking skills?"

His stomach wasn't going to let him settle for not eating. Frowning, Richie looked around, as if hoping that a meal, or Virgil, would somehow magically appear. He actually preferred the idea of Virgil showing up, because that way he could have some company as well as figure out where the food was -really- kept.

Unfortunately, neither occurred.

"Well... I can either wait here, or go out in search of food," the blond told himself as he moved to stand in front of the door. "I don't remember being told that I have to stay here, but... I don't remember anyone saying that I could walk around, either."

There was also the fact that he didn't remember seeing any other Chosen walking around without their Defender. In the end, though, it was his stomach that made the decision for him. Richie took a deep breath and stepped towards the door.

He had a momentary concern that the door wouldn't open for him unless Virgil was with him, but the fear was barely there before it was brushed away with the opening doors.

As soon as the doors shut behind him, Richie realized he had made a mistake.

He bit his lower lip as he looked in both directions. He had no idea where he was going, and couldn't recall the path he and Static Shock had made when he had first arrived. That, and it seemed that down the curved hallway, the ceiling, the floor, and the doors that lined the walls were all a stainless steel color. With a shrug he turned down one way and prayed for the best.

It didn't take long before Richie became completely, utterly lost. He tried turning back to go the other way, but he wasn't even able to find his and Virgil's apartment. He began to panic, and to sweat.

"Can I help you?"

The blond Chosen nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise, not even aware of anyone else in the hallway. He turned as he tried to bite back his pulse. "Hi!"

Richie stood face to face with one of the Defenders. In fact, it was Robin. Trying to be polite, and trying to stay out of trouble, he did a quick bow. The masked Defender merely raised an eyebrow at him as he continued to stare at him. "I asked if I could help you."

"Um, actually," Richie began, running one hand quickly through his unkempt blond hair. He wanted to say no, he didn't need help. But he didn't get the chance as his stomach let out another loud, ferocious growl.

He wasn't sure, but he thought that he saw Robin's lips quirk with a slight grin. "You're lost."

"Ah, um, well..."

"Static didn't show you to the food hall, did he?" The Gotham City dweller shook his head, already knowing the answer. He turned around without waiting for an answer and made a 'follow me' motion with his hand.

The newest Chosen automatically followed him. He really didn't see any alternative, really. It felt strange calling him "sir" when he knew that they were about the same age. However, he knew he needed to remain polite. "Thank you, sir."

"My name is Robin," he grinned, as if he didn't already know. "Call me by my name."

"Okay," Richie smiled, though he was behind and to the side of his escort, so he didn't see. "So, you know Static Shock well?"

"Well enough," he replied.

Most would have taken his tone to mean that the conversation was over, but Richie needed more information and wasn't going to be deterred from finding out as much as he could. "So-"

"Save your questions for him. I am not going to gossip about him, especially to his Chosen. None of the others will either, or at least, no one that you would -want- to listen to, will. You can ask for information about your new home, about your new position, or rather status, and you can ask about things to occupy your time while you're here to keep you out of trouble and out of the rest of the Defenders' way," Robin informed him dryly.

"Yes, sir." Blonde eyebrows rose as he looked at the back of the Defender's head. After a few more moments of silent travel, going down a flight of stairs, Richie tried to talk to him, not about Static or anyone else, but just to him. "So... do -you- have a Chosen?"

"No."

"Do you want one?"

Robin stopped walking and slowly turned around to look at him. Dark eyes blinked at him as Robin looked him over from head to foot and back up. "Are you propositioning me?"

"What!" Richie yelped, taking a step back. "No!"

"Good. Because we could both get in trouble if you were. From now on, keep questions like that to yourself. Or at least phrase them differently." He nodded slowly and turned back around. However, he looked back over his shoulder at him one more time before continuing on.

"Okay," Richie acquiesced, following him again. "But, um, you didn't answer my question."

"I choose not to take a Chosen," he stated. "I don't need one."

"Oh," replied the blond, nodding his head. As far as Richie knew, though, Virgil didn't need one, either. Other than for someone to pick up after him, because the world knew that Virgil Hawkins could win disaster fund relief for the area known as his room. "Okay."

Soon enough, they made it to the food hall. It was very much like a high school cafeteria. Only a bit cleaner. And nicer. With several areas from which to get food and plenty of room to sit down and eat. Granted, there were a lot of people there, both Defenders and Chosen, and the ranks seemed to be mixed very well.

There was a table of entirely female Chosen, about seven in total, all murmuring to each other while occasionally looking around to see who might be listening in to their conversation. They wore the same outfit, which seemed to be the standard fare for female Chosen. He also noticed a few other male Chosen walking around and sitting down. And while some wore outfits similar to his, some wore real clothes.

'_I want clothes. I don't want to be wearing this skirt; it makes me feel naked. I want real clothes,_' Richie mentally whined. '_I wonder what it would take to convince Virgil to get me some real clothes. Maybe I could just steal his..._'

There was also the table where a few of the more junior Defenders sat, laughing with each other. Richie arched an eyebrow as he noticed Cyborg toss a roll at his smaller, green companion. Laughter of the team, small and young.

Beast Boy...

He noticed that the other two at that table, Raven and Starfire, were either making it a point to ignore the tossed roll, and consequent food fight, or they were just so used to it that they didn't even notice it. Starfire, her hair shining bright ruby, was talking very fast and excitedly to Raven, who was merely nodding her head and eating. From what Richie could remember, Raven was quite mad, and not in the 'I'm Angry' kind of way. On the other hand, Starfire, for all intents and purposes, was a complete and utter ditz, so how they got along, the blond human had no idea.

Green Arrow had himself surrounded by a large group of Chosen, both male and female, and only some of them seemed to be interested in what the archer was saying. A blond female in a short blue-jean mini-skirt, whom Richie was almost positive was Supergirl, walked up behind the blond Defender, walking past him to take a seat elsewhere, and as she did, she smacked him on the rear. The rest of the table laughed at his shocked reaction.

There were other tables of Defenders, talking and laughing and remembering 'war stories' together. There were a few tables with a mixture of Defenders and Chosen. There were also a few tables of just Chosen.

"Whoa…"

However, the most impressive thing in the room was the far wall. The wall was set to mimic space through an open window; well, it was either a mimicry or they were -in- space and how likely was that? Truthfully, it was always a possibility, but Richie wasn't certain of how probable. After all, having a space station was very expensive. It was also open for an attack from the few aliens that wanted to come to earth for whatever reasons that they had. That, and Richie couldn't remember getting on a rocket to get there. So, it was probably just an illusion. Still, it was a very -good- illusion.

There were a few smaller tables just in front of the image and far enough away from the rest of the tables to have the illusion of privacy. Sitting furthest from the mayhem that was the general eating area were Green Lantern and the Flash, and they were the only ones sitting at any of those tables. There were plates stacked up on the table, but from what Richie could see, only Flash was eating. Green Lantern seemed to be drinking coffee. However, he barely paid the duo any attention, his eyes going back to the screen where the stars were moving, turning away so that a new image could fill the screen.

Earth.

It was Earth.

"Oh, wow..." There really were no other words that Richie could think of at that moment. It was just too impressive for words, just so... beautiful.

"When you want to return to your and Static's room, it's down the hallway to the fourth corridor, take a left, and then down to the stairs where you will go up a flight. You'll go right, down that corridor until you reach the sixth intersection. There, you'll take another right. And it will be the seventh door on your left," Robin informed him, completely unimpressed by the view. As if he didn't trust the blond Chosen, he sighed and added, "Or you could get someone to escort you back."

"I think I've got it," Richie tried to reassure him.

"All right," acknowledged Robin. He looked him over one more time before turning away. "Good luck." And then he was gone.

Richie tried to focus on the food hall. It was time to eat. And hopefully, he could make at least one friend while he was there. However, his eyes seemed to stray back to the image of Earth spinning slowly in the mock-window.

-o0o-

"It seems our little Turtle Dove got distracted today," Ebon said after he flipped the stop button on the DVD player. He, Shiv, Talon, Hotstreak, Aquamaria, Carmen Dillo, Kangor, Onyx, and Puff sat around a room dimly lit room, watching the video. The air carried the slight stench of mildew and dampness, a scent that they were never quite able to eradicate in their underground lair, much like a certain Defender. They were seated in an abandoned subway car, which was set up like a boardroom, with him sitting at its head and the others gathered around him. When the show was over, almost all eyes turned to Ebon. Only Hotstreak was watching Talon, and his lower lip was set in a pout of annoyance. "But that's understandable. He was in rare form today. Very... impatient."

"Yeah," Shiv snickered. "Hotstreak ain't the only hothead."

Talon grinned slightly at Shiv's joking, but didn't laugh as she caught the accusation in Francis's eyes. "We already have tons of stock footage of Hotstreak fighting. But we only capture him losing-"

"Oh, gee, thanks!" the red-haired youth snarled as small ball of flame formed in his hand. "And I don't -always- lose."

"Not always," Puff agreed. She was in charge of a branch of Ebon's gang, that of finding potential meta-humans and bringing them into the organization, if only to sell them a month later. Some of them thought of The Breed as a gang, while others thought of it as a new family. But to her, it was merely business. She had no real love for any of the other members of the gang, except maybe Onyx, but she tolerated them. Before Hotstreak thought he had an ally in this argument, though, the petite meta-hunter clarified. "Just most of the time."

Preventing the argument from turning into a full out fight, complete with powers, Ebon cut in, his voice as precise as one of Shiv's blades. "Do we have enough stock footage of Hotstreak fighting to make a decent production?"

"Yes," Talon promised.

"No problem," Shiv grinned, answering at the same time as his female accomplice. "We have tons of film with Hotstreak fighting, either rescuing one of the other meta-humans, getting one of them into trouble, getting them angry, or just testing the video equipment to see how close we could get while still being safe to film him. No worries."

"Good," Ebon nodded. "Then get to work on it."

"Yes, sir!" Shiv laughed as he left the room, making sure to take the disc from the player before he exited.

"Puff, have you found any prospects for the Market for next month?" the shadowy figure asked.

"Well, there are two, but I don't know how willing they'd be," the young woman replied, leaning forward and ready to do business. This was what she enjoyed, what she did best. Sure, finding the next target was fun and was often entertaining, but many times it was boring and the rest of her gang only came across a potential 'Dark Disciple' by accident. "One is a young female, brown hair, green eyes, and skin like metal. Doesn't want to be a Bang-Baby."

Talon snorted at this and rolled her eyes. '_As if anyone really -wants- to be a freak_.'

"The other is a bit older, male, and..."

"And?"

Puff sighed, and a small cloud of harmless, or at least mostly harmless, green smoke appeared. She shuffled some papers in front of her before she looked over at the leader of The Breed. Her blood was pumping, and it was all she could do to remain in a solid state. "We did some digging on this one, trying to find out what we could use against him. Seems that there's one sure fire way to get to him, other than his profession. He's a musician, a rapper to be more precise."

"What's the other way?"

"Family."

Talon shook her head, looking quickly at Ebon. No. No, that wasn't good. That wasn't a good option. No one needed to bring in anyone's family. With wide eyes, she couldn't stop from blurting out, "Does his family know... you know, that he's a...?"

"Not yet," Puff replied, grinning smugly, "but his only family is about to."

Talon ruffled her feathers, looking back to Ebon, and then back at Puff. She was about to say that they didn't out other meta-humans, that they only took those that were away from their families, that they only placed those that were already 'lost' to the real world with those who'd want them, but Puff was staring intently at Ebon, and no one else was paying the golden bird any attention either.

"It's YOUR brother, Ebon."

If their leader felt anything by this revelation, the shadows that formed his body didn't reveal anything. Talon settled back down in her seat and waited for the fall out of this discovery. The silence didn't last long, though. "How did you know I had a brother?"

To the shock of those not in her closest confidence, Puff smiled, seemingly oblivious to the deadly threat in their leader's voice. "I have my sources."

Whether or not Ebon accepted the explanation, no one was really sure. However, he did ask, "What are his powers?"

"He's basically built out of rubber now, able to stretch and to bounce."

There was another prolonged silence as everyone waited for Ebon to say something, anything, that would clue them in on what he was thinking. Finally, Ebon leaned back. "See what the female wants out of life. If we can use her, get her. If we can't, forget about her. There are others. There are always others. As for my brother... Watch him. Find out all that you can."

"Got it," Puff nodded.

Ebon waived his hand, dismissing her and the rest of her party. As they were getting up to leave, he turned back to Talon. "How much footage do you have of our local battery?"

"Static Shock?" Talon asked, but even as she asked, she was making a mental calculation. "He's on just about every tape we have."

"I want you to slice another production for me. Nothing but him. I want to see how he fights, how he moves, what he uses and what he avoids. Every second of footage of him you've got, I want." The Breed's leader's voice was exceptionally quiet, and the few remaining in the room were at instant attention. Something was up. They knew it. Ebon's mind worked in mysterious ways, and until he told them what was going on, none of them would know anything more than something was in the works.

And since it involved an enemy, they knew that it was going to be big. Probably bloody, too, but definitely big.

"You got it, Ebon," Talon nodded, getting up. "I'm on it."

"Good," he murmured, even as he began to dissipate into the darkness of his chair. "Very good."

-o0o-

Virgil growled to himself as he made one more round over the streets of Dakota. Usually, he loved this, flying along on electromagnetic currents, feeling the wind through his hair and the admiration of the people on the streets below him. But today, he just felt annoyed. Not only had he been called out of bed when he was comfortable and warm and, for once, -with- someone, but he had been called out of bed for Hotstreak. And the fire freak had gotten away!

But, of course, Hotstreak took the time to melt his shoes first. Of course. Because that was what -always- happened when they got into a fight. Hotstreak would throw fireball after fireball, trying to burn down the city around them, only to end up pissing off Virgil and melting his shoes.

They were new shoes!

Granted, he stopped buying expensive shoes after the first two pair ended up like his current cheap ones, but that was beside the point. He wanted his shoes to last, oh, say, longer than a week.

It'd be nice.

The young Defender sighed to himself and ran a hand through his thick dreadlocks. He was more than annoyed. He was angry, and he knew he needed to calm down. With his emotions as turbulent as they were, getting transported back home would be... unpleasant.

"And while I wouldn't mind my name being said all over the world, I don't want my atoms like that," he muttered aloud to himself. Something about his powers messed with the transportation beam. He had never liked using it, even on the best of days. He had woken up with nightmares because of the blasted thing, screaming in terror at feeling his molecules fall apart around him, and not being able to reform, as they were too happy dancing across the sky like heat lightning during summer.

What really had Virgil so upset had very little to do with his toasted shoes and the idea of being lost in the transition from Dakota to the Fortress, and more to do with the blond that had slept in his bed with him last night. The young male rubbed his jaw, wincing at the bruise there that wasn't acquired during his tussle with Hotstreak.

Richie had hit him! Hard, too!

Of course, in hindsight, he had deserved it. But that didn't make the bruise any less aggravating. There was also the fact that it had been really nice to see the blond again. He hadn't been able to speak with anyone he had known before... before he became a Defender. It was part of the Rules, with a capitol R.

No one was allowed to know who he was, or where he was from, except his Chosen. It was too dangerous. He, just like everyone else, wasn't allowed to talk with his former family, wasn't allowed to reference them, wasn't allowed to have pictures of them, or attend weddings or funerals. It might clue someone in on who he was. Granted, he was bending those rules by making Dakota his territory, but it wasn't like some of the others didn't pick locations.

Superman had Metropolis, a high-class city with high-class crimes. Gotham City, a city that Vigil was eternally grateful wasn't his to patrol, which had the same dark, broody attitude that Batman did. Flash, when he wasn't gallivanting across the galaxies with Green Lantern, was the guardian for Central City.

Him? He had Dakota.

He had his old neighborhood, where he first learned to ride a bike and to avoid traffic. He had the mall where he used to shop for clothes, music, and movies. He had his old church, where some Sundays he still went and hung out, just outside the window and listened to the reverend's sermon. He had his old high school where he flew by to watch his old classmates between classes, and where he sometimes thought about just going down and just -talking- with one of them. He had the cemetery, where his mom was buried, and apparently so was he.

Which was just depressing.

Sighing again, Virgil acknowledged that it was time to return to the Fortress. He flew his shield to a nearby rooftop and landed, sliding the shield over his back. The thing wasn't light and made him grunt as it slapped against his back. He wrinkled his nose as he looked down at his shoes; melted shoes felt awkward to walk on. The fact that the roof had gravel on it didn't help. He pressed his hand to just above his ear, where a small transmitter was. "Hey, anyone there?"

There was a moment of silence before a startling clear voice replied, "Robin, here."

"I need a lift, man."

Without responding, Virgil felt his entire body tingling, making him more nervous and agitated than usual. It was as if his power had a sudden spike, and it was all he could do to contain it. When he first arrived, it had been by cargo ship, as they were -all- too afraid of what might happen trying to transport him through the transit unit. But that had been years ago, and since then, not only had his powers stabilized but the transport unit had undergone a few modifications. The first few times he had attempted to use the transport system, he had freaked out, and it had nearly killed him. Now, he merely shut his eyes, bit his tongue, and tried not to think about how his already overly energized molecules were reacting to the transport beam that the Fortress was using because if he did he was either going to scream or get sick.

After a few moments of tense waiting, where the absence of sound was replaced by the low hum that was the Fortress Transport Center, Virgil opened one dark brown eye. Robin was standing behind the podium area where the controls to the transport were, the picture of total relaxation and boredom. Virgil released a tense breath, letting it slide out through barely parted lips.

Robin waited patiently for the other teenager to regain his composure. Those that worked the transport knew that some of the Defenders had a real problem with the technology. Like Captain Atom, who was afraid that he would somehow damage the machine or it would damage him.

When it seemed that the dark skinned teen was steady again, he asked, "Patrolling this early?"

"Not if I can help it. It was an alarm," Virgil replied, moving on shaking legs, and unsteady feet, to the outer rim of the transport circle. Not that he didn't trust the machine or anything, but accidents were known to happen. He tried to tell himself that the unsteadiness of his feet was due to the melted conditions of his shoes. '_Do I even have any extra shoes? Maybe under the couch..._'

Robin nodded. He was well aware of some of Static Shock's enemies, especially the repeat offenders. It seemed that some of Dakota's problem children were making it out of the urban jungle and into other cities, including his base of operations: Gotham. Seeing how gingerly Virgil was stepping, his eyes traveled down to the other male's shoes, and he smirked. "Hotstreak, I take it."

"Yeah," Static sighed, shaking his head.

Robin nodded and adjusted the controls of the transportation unit. Just as Virgil made it over to the exit, Robin's casual, oh-by-the-way voice reached his ears. "You might want to stop by the cafeteria first."

"No way, man. I smell like I rolled around in liquid asphalt," Virgil said as he crinkled his nose. He paused a moment, tilting his head to the side as he though. He turned back to grin slightly at the seemingly younger Defender. "Which, actually, isn't that far off from the truth."

Robin merely shrugged. "Richie's in the cafeteria."

"Say -what-?" Now Virgil's attention was completely on the other male. As far as he knew, Richie had no idea how, and no need, to go to the food-hall.

"Cafeteria. Richie." It was all Robin could do not to smirk. "He's there."

"How did he—? I mean, what's he—? Why—?"

"I assume he was hungry."

"There's food in my room. I think," Virgil thought aloud. "In the fridge or... wait. Maybe in the—no. I was pretty sure I left something in there."

"Apparently not."

"So how did he get to the cafeteria?"

For once, Robin stood to his full height and took his time to look Static up and down, as if challenging him. He was tempted to do something very Batman-esque, and not reply, but the utter confusion in Static's face made him take pity. After all, they had been friends for a good few years already, and he had carried this game on long enough. Grinning mischievously, he replied, "He was lost. I escorted him."

"Aw, man," Static groused, turning back towards the door. He was such an idiot at times. He should have made -sure- he had food in stock before he left the night before. Or at least made sure before he left this morning, instead of going to the cafeteria to get a quick breakfast. "Well, guess changing will have to wait."

"And Static?" Robin called out, just as the doors to the hallway were opening up

"Yeah?"

"You really do smell horrible." The young Defender crinkled his nose and nodded his head, confirming what Static had already said.

"Thanks." Virgil rolled his eyes he stepped through the automated doors. He turned to the left and proceeded to the cafeteria. His stomach took the opportunity to make its thoughts on the situation known. Apparently, a couple of Pop Tarts weren't enough food for a full battle and three rounds through the city.

He made his way to the cafeteria, grateful that he didn't have to walk too far—as it was mostly a matter of catching a lift from one floor to another—and feeling the discomfort from his melted shoes growing with each step he took. His irritation with Hotstreak grew with each step as well.

He passed a few people in the hallway, but none paid him much attention, too used to seeing him—or at least too used to seeing costumed heroes walking around—to care too much about one more. Normally, that would have made him feel good, like he wasn't so different. Today, it just made him wonder what would faze those of the Fortress.

Global catastrophes? They were an everyday occurrence. Alien invasions? They were almost routine. Armageddon? The four horsemen seemed to be on just about every super-villain's speed dial.

'_Maybe seeing Batman singing. That might shock a few people..._' Virgil thought about it, trying to imagine the scene, and failed miserably.

He didn't want to think about what kind of trouble Richie might have gotten into while he made his way to the food-hall. Still, he knew someone could try to make a move on the blond, or try to make friends with him, or try to brush him off as inconsequential. Not that any of the other Defenders were mean, cruel, or vicious, but they each had their own personality quirks. All those fears were for nothing though, as the doors to the cafeteria opened. His dark eyes immediately fell onto the newest of the Chosen, sitting by himself, simply watching the view.

Virgil had to admit, the view was truly amazing. He had been captivated by it when he first got to the Fortress, opting to be here in the food-hall for hours, rather than his lonely room. He had made friends here, with the Teen Titans, and a few of the other Defenders. Some of the Defenders would always be more like his heroes rather than his friend, like Green Lantern and Batman, but some were his friends. Like Flash. But then, Flash was just about everyone's friend, except maybe Batman's. It wasn't Flash's fault, though. It was just really difficult to be the Night Terror's friend.

He debated whether or not to grab some food before he walked over to sit with Richie, but his feet were moving before his brain was. He found himself sitting next to the blond before he had thought of something appropriate to say to his friend and just blurted out, "Hotstreak melted my shoes."

"Hey! V—erm, Static." Richie nearly fell out of his chair as he jumped. He caught himself both physically, and verbally, before he peeked under the table, his eyebrows rising. "Oh, wow, that... is pretty bad."

"Yeah. Doesn't feel too good either." He tried to joke about it, but just looking at the mess had him pouting slightly. Turning a bit to the side, Virgil pulled off his ruined shoes and set them in the chair next to him.

"Ooh. Static. Did you know your shoes are all melted, man?"

"Kinda escaped my notice, Flash." He grinned slightly as the red clad speedster came and sat at the table with him and Richie.

"Yeah, you should check into getting some new ones. I'm always having to get new shoes. Mine tend to... wear out... fast," Flash said as he took one of the shoes in hand and began to inspect it. He ran his gloved fingers over the soles, trying to think of what might have caused it to melt in such a way, as his shoes had never melted like that. Granted, they had melted clean off his feet, but they had never seemed to just... puddle around the soles.

"I can imagine," Virgil nodded, looking over to Richie's wide eyes.

"Yeah, there's like some experiment Wayne Enterprises is working on to make a... rubber that won't... you know... wear down so fast. For me. Because... Yeah." Flash's rambling began to trail off as Green Lantern came and sat down, and if the red-suited speed freak had wanted to say anything else, the message got lost on the highways and byways that made up Flash's mind.

Virgil wasn't a hundred percent sure that there wasn't a double meaning to what Flash just said, after all, the speedster was very into shoes and for a good reason, but Virgil was a self-admitted teenager, and sometimes, his mind wandered into the gutter. In the ensuing silence, he wasn't all that sure how to ask if there was a hidden meaning to the words. So, the silence stretched on for an uncomfortable amount of time afterward, as Richie wasn't saying anything either. Though, Static wasn't sure if that was because Richie didn't know what to say, didn't want to say anything, or wasn't sure if him talking was okay. Some of the Chosen came to the Fortress with some very strange ideas about what went on. He'd have to ask Richie about—

"What is that smell?" Green Lantern asked as he sniffed the air with a look of revulsion on his face, effectively breaking into Virgil's thoughts.

The younger Defender sighed and hung his head. "That would be me."

"Ick," Flash said as he made a face. "Careful with that. You could make even me lose my appetite. And that? Is really, really difficult."

"I suppose that smell also has something to do with your shoes. How did that happen, Static?" inquired Green Lantern, leaning forward to listen.

"Hotstreak."

Flash grinned. "Good story?"

"Long story."

"Just give us the short and skinny."

"Well, it started with an alarm going off kind of early this morning..."

"No, no," interrupted Flash. "I said 'short and skinny,' not 'blow-by-blow'. So, you know, like... Short. Skinny. You know."

Virgil raised an eyebrow. Then he looked at Richie and grinned. He turned back to the older two Defenders and informed them, "Alarm. Went to Dakota. Hotstreak was on a rampage. We fought. Shoes got melted. He escaped. That's pretty much it."

"Okay." Flash turned to Green Lantern. Gesturing to the electric youth, he grinned, "See? He knows what 'short and skinny' means. You could learn a lot from him. You know, making things concise and-and, you know, not long, drawn-out explanations that make me think you're trying to belittle my intelligence even though you're actually trying to instill some important lesson that's really just going over my head because I can't sit there and listen to every single word coming out of anyone's mouth with Batman-like attention to detail because, like, -nobody- has an attention span like his."

"Can't belittle something that isn't there," Green Lantern deadpanned.

"Hey! That's not nice," Flash pouted then noticed GL's signature '_I'm kidding_' smirk. "Oh, I see. Jerking my chain. Look, I was just saying that short and to-the-point is nice."

"You know I like taking my time with things that are… important," the former marine replied smoothly, and there was a note to his voice of which the three at the table were very much aware, but Virgil and Richie weren't entirely sure what it was.

Flash looked at him a moment and then smiled. "Hmm. Well, catch you kids later!"

Richie and Virgil watched as the two older heroes left their table and then proceeded to the door. As they neared the automated doors the twin panels slid apart, and the duo stood to the side to allow Superman to enter the room. Most of the noise from the food-hall quieted down, as all eyes turned to regard the leader of the Defenders.

Superman was a great man and strong enough to hold the hope of the world on his shoulders. There wasn't a leader of any organization or nation that didn't listen to the dark-haired Kryptonian's words. The people in the food hall were well aware of his heightened senses, and once he nodded his head to them, some picked up their conversations again.

Trying to appear at least remotely cool, Virgil nonchalantly turned back to Richie and said, "So, hey! I see you found your way to the cafeteria."

"Yeah, I found you have some really weird ideas about what food is and had to find the food-hall before I starved."

"Sorry about that," Virgil winced, and the action was clearly broadcasted, even though he wore his mask. "About not having anything. I thought I had some food in the fridge or at least the cabinets."

"Cans of tuna fish by themselves?" Richie grinned, softly laughing at his friend's discomfiture. "Those don't count."

"Yes, they do! They're... They're food," Static tried, jokingly arguing with his Chosen. It felt good to be there with him, someone who knew him for him. It... It wasn't the same, joking with Robin or Flash. He missed it.

Being normal. Being... human.

Richie rolled his eyes, unaware of Virgil's thoughts. "Mm-hmmm."

"Well, they -are-," Virgil mock-groused. He grinned, though, before he asked, "Should we get more for there, or would you rather come down here?"

"This place isn't so bad, but... It would be nice to have the kitchen in your room fully stocked," Richie replied carefully, thinking of how embarrassing it would be to have to come here in the middle of the night for a midnight snack. Or about arriving when all they really wanted to do was stay in bed... But the likelihood of that happening? He wasn't counting on it. So, it was better to focus on the practical. "How exactly would we go about doing that, by the way?"

"Well, there's this computer thing, and you place orders on it, and the stuff is delivered. I think. I dunno. I haven't actually used it much. Or at all," answered Static, trying to remember the instructions he had been given when he first arrived. But he hadn't wanted to eat in his room. He didn't want to be alone with himself, or his powers, or his new status. He had wanted to be out, with others, trying to figure out where he fit in.

"Well, I'd be happy to take care of that. For us," the blond suggested as he looked down at what remained on his plate, fighting the blush that wanted to streak across his face like the Flash's crimson blur.

"That'd be great, Richie! I could ask Batman to show you how to use it." Virgil thought about that a moment, and then amended his statement. "Or maybe Robin..."

"No, no, that's okay. I'm sure I could... figure it out myself?" interjected Richie. He had seen enough of Robin for one day, and he really didn't want Virgil to find out that he had accidentally made a pass at him. Really. He -so- didn't want that. "I'm still pretty good with computers."

"That's cool," Virgil said as he brushed one of his dreadlocks out of his eyes. He looked around and then back at Richie. He then noticed the plate in front of his Chosen was almost completely clean. "Say, are you almost done?"

"Pretty much," the bespectacled male nodded.

"How about a movie in our room? And you can figure out how to order us stuff while I shower because... I reek."

"I noticed." Richie wrinkled his nose. He stood up, leaving his tray behind for one of the only slightly humanoid robots to come pick up. "Shall we go, then?"

Virgil nodded, grabbed his shoes, and swept his arm out, motioning for Richie to lead the way out. Once outside the cafeteria, though, Virgil took the lead, passing through the maze of corridors and hallways as if it was a simple math problem.

By the time they arrived back at their room, Richie was thoroughly lost and knew it would take either being led or getting a map to figure out how to get back to the food-hall. '_Just as well I'm going to figure out how to order in. No way am I figuring out the specs on this place any time soon._' He watched as Virgil tore off his mask and looked around the now clean room.

"Whoa, you've been busy!" Virgil turned to grin at his friend. His grin widened when he saw Richie's light blush and awkward shrug.

"I like being organized," replied the blond, dismissing the praise.

Virgil thought about teasing his friend some more but then began thinking about his own predicament. "Hey, you didn't happen to come across another pair of shoes, did you?"

"Yeah, there were two under the couch."

"Yeah!"

"Yeah." Richie adjusted his glasses before taking them off and bringing them down to his skirt to wipe clean. "But they weren't a pair. One shoe from two different pairs."

"Aw." Virgil's head dropped for a moment, and several of his dreadlocks fell forward into his face. "Well, I guess I'll have to ask for a new pair."

"Yeah?" Richie perked up.

"Yeah," Virgil pouted. "I seem to be spending most of the money I get a week on new shoes. Maybe I should talk to someone from Wayne Ent. about what Flash was talking about."

"You mean... you have to pay for things here?"

"Well, yeah," Virgil nodded. "I'm, like, sorta on an allowance."

Blue eyes blinked twice before Richie was able to sputter out, "But you're a Defender!"

"Yeah, well... I'm still on an allowance."

"So... I guess I'd be a little out of line in asking to get some clothes."

Virgil heard the sound of disappointment in Richie's voice and winced. He smacked his head for the second time that day and realized for the first time that having a Chosen was about like having a pet. And his Pops had never let him have a dog, much less anything as exotic as another person. "Aw, man, I'm sorry. I didn't even think about that!"

"Hey, not to worry," Richie grinned. "I'll just steal -your- clothes."

Virgil smiled. "Hey, as long as they're clean... Speaking of which, I really need to shower."

Richie nodded his head, still smirking. Before he went to the bathroom, Virgil pointed out the panel set against the door that was where orders were supposed to be placed for food and basic supplies. Things like that didn't cost anything, as they were paid for by Wayne Enterprises, which was what funded all of the Fortress's needs. And then he went to the shower, praying that he would be able to get the smell of tar and asphalt and char off.

-oOo-

In the time it took Virgil to take his shower, scrubbing all the dirt and grime and sweat off, Richie had managed to figure out how the console worked and had ordered dinner plus some snacks. After Virgil ate, and Richie had placed an order for another pair of shoes for him, they sat down to watch movies.

They were on their third movie so far and hadn't been interrupted yet, which, for Virgil, was a miracle.

Richie was sitting on one end of the couch with Virgil's feet in his lap. Virgil, for his part, was lying down, his head propped up the armrest. They were both looking at the television, but neither was really paying that much attention to it.

If either of them had had their bare feet on the floor, they would have felt it hum with the energy it was taking to use the transport system, not two floors down. No one lived on the floors immediately surrounding the transport center due to the power it used and because some thought that living near it was hazardous.

However, as far as Virgil was concerned, there were other things, much closer to him, that were just as hazardous to his sanity.

Virgil glanced down at the other end of the sofa, where Richie was playing with his feet. With the way Richie's hands had fallen, both thumbs were pressed over his ankles, and the blond was absently rubbing them. It almost tickled, but mostly, it felt good.

Virgil looked down his body, grateful that his baggy clothes hid some of his body's reaction to the attention. He wasn't too sure how Richie would respond. Fact of the matter was, he didn't know a lot about his Chosen, such as what his preferred food was, what kind of music he listened to, or anything of that nature. As he thought about it, he began to wonder if they had anything in common anymore or not.

As the movie played on, Virgil began to figure out what he was going to do, mainly with himself. If he didn't stop what Richie was doing soon, he was going to be in some serious pain. With a capital E.

Richie jumped as Virgil pulled his feet out of his lap and moved to stand up.

"You want something to drink?" asked Virgil, and was very proud of the fact that his voice remained as cheerfully neutral as ever.

"Nah. I've still got some of my root beer," the blond replied as he shook his still half full can.

Virgil nodded as he walked into the kitchen. He busied himself with fixing a glass of cola as he tried to calm the soft buzz of excitement that was pulsing through his system. He managed to calm down easily enough and return to the living room.

Where he found Richie had taken his seat. Or rather, his Chosen was lying down on the sofa, and his feet were now resting on Virgil's side of the sofa. Virgil raised an eyebrow at the switch in positions but gladly set his glass down and moved Richie's feet so that he could sit.

He thought to return the favor of the foot massage, but his found that his Chosen wasn't about to let that happen.

Richie yelped like a small child when Virgil ran his fingers softly from the heel of one of Richie's feet to the toes. Virgil looked at the blond quickly, even as the foot in his hand tried to jerk back.

"Virgil! Don't do that, man!"

Dark eyes blinked in surprise, and then a small, devious smile formed across full lips. "What's the matter? Ticklish?"

"No!"

The denial would have been more believable if it hadn't come out as a cross between a shriek and a squeak, and if Richie wouldn't have blushed while he said it.

If there was any doubt that the transformation into a Defender had excised the demons that drove the others of Dakota insane, they vanished with the positively evil laugh that erupted from the electric Defender.

And then the war began.

Virgil had fought many opponents with some interesting powers, but somehow, not even Aquamaria had the ability to squirm out of his grasp like Richie could. And then the blond would glare at him and return the attack.

Somehow they managed to stay on the sofa, which was a miracle to say the least. However, the struggling was a mixed blessing because while it was fun, and a lot more entertaining to him than a movie that he had seen several hundred times, the friction between his body and Richie's was making him hotter than one of Hotstreak's attacks.

Using one of the moves he'd learned since becoming a Defender, Virgil managed to pin Richie's arms across his chest. The blond Chosen was laying on his back, with the dark skinned Defender leaning over him. They stared into each other's eyes, both of them flushed from the exercise, and from something neither of them were willing to say to the other, and between them, all that could be heard was their rapid breathing.

Until an explosion and a scream from the television caught both of their attention.

They watched, or rather, they looked at the television for a few moments before Virgil looked back at the pale figure below him.

Richie turned to look at him and then down their bodies so that he could look at his still captured hands. "Hey, V, you going to let me up any time soon?"

"And let you attack me again? I don't think so," Virgil replied with a smile. He slid behind Richie, one hand still holding on tightly to both of Richie's. He didn't need to be looking at Richie's face to know that the blond was rolling his eyes. However, his Chosen still moved so that he was able to spoon him from behind. They continued to shift in little ways until they were both comfortable, and able to see the television screen.

Richie could feel Virgil's hot breath over his ear as they lay together, and he did his best to suppress the goose bumps that threatened to break out all over his body. They were both shirtless and could feel the heat from the other's body. Granted, Virgil was wearing pants and Richie wasn't; in fact, he was still in nothing but the small white wraparound, and he figured that if they continued to lie like they were, it was going to be more of a belt than a skirt. But their bodies seemed to find ways to mold against each other, molding together so that they were both comfortable and both still completely on the sofa. It felt good to lie like they were, to simply enjoy the other's company.

Virgil closed his eyes and felt how tired he was by the heat behind his eyelids. He sighed softly, adjusting one more time so that he was more or less holding onto Richie instead of restraining him. Granted, he wasn't deluding himself into believing that it was any kind of alternative to what he really wanted, which involved a bed, dim lights, and lots and lots of time, but the contentment he felt was like an oven mitt, protecting him from the heat of his own thoughts. He had a sudden impulse, like a flash fire, and before he could get up the reasons not to do it, he found himself licking his lips and consequently running his tongue over the edge of Richie's ear.

While they might have both been looking in the direction of the television, neither one paid any attention to the movie. As close as they were, it would have taken a deaf person not to hear the sudden alteration in Richie's breathing. Virgil moved again, running his closed lips in an almost absentminded caress over the pale, bare skin of Richie's neck. He didn't do more than that, just held his Chosen, just enjoyed the feel of him.

It wasn't enough to last him, but it was enough for the moment.


	3. Plans

_Author: Summer Starr  
__Disclaimer: I don't own DC, WB, or the like. That means Static Shock, JL, Teen Titans, Batman, Superman, or any other villains or heroes that you might notice.  
__Warnings: **Slash** (Virgil/Richie, GL/Flash, others), **Alternate Universe**, **Cross Over** (pay attention, and you'll spot other DC heroes)  
__Author's Note: If some characters seem OOC, then it's my fault because I don't have as good a handle on them as I'd like. For those of you who are AMV inclined, I threw in some ideas for ya. Maybe it might inspire you. If not, that's cool too.  
__Ratings: M  
__Title: Like A Dream_

**Like A Dream  
**Part Three

The room was a total mess. If chaos was an art form, then the inhabitants were master craftsmen. Trashcans had balls of paper falling on the floor around them. Scratched CD-R's and CD-RW's were scattered on every available shelf, including the floor. Empty soda cans stood tall as well as crunched on the floor. Days old food littered the ground around the work areas. There was a stench to the air that had nothing to do with the mildew and rot that permeated the rest of their dank lair.

There were several computers, some of which were just husks of their former selves, but there were some that were completely functional, completely usable machines. Stacked very nicely along two desks were monitors, and each monitor faced the opposing desk. Spread out between the consoles were various VCRs, DVD players, CD players, and a few X-boxes as well. All in all, if that area had just a few more wires and electronics, it would quite possibly pass as a portion of a Borg Cube from Star Trek.

How anyone could work in the area was a mystery to those that didn't. But what many failed to realize was the computer consoles—the keyboards and mouse areas in particular—were amazingly clean. Almost to the level of manic.

The most adamant source of pollution in the area, though, was actually noise.

There were four large speakers set against one wall that looked as if they had been stolen from an outside concert. If it had been above ground in a normal house, every building within a mile's radius could have felt the pulsing beat when the base was pushed to its highest level. However, they were so far below ground that no one was subjected to the punishment dealt by the massive level of decibels.

Presently, however, the music being played wasn't nearly as obscene as some of the other tracks played. Instead, the room was filled with only the tuneless hum of machines and the shuffling of various papers and CD cases.

Shiv was sitting at his desk, scrolling through his computer's music files. "What about 'Oh Fortuna' from 'Carmina Burama'?"

"That'd be a good fight scene." Talon nodded as she shuffled through a few lists. For every auction, they created several music videos, highlighting their merchandise. Sometimes they went instrumental, sometimes hard rock, sometimes Blues. It really depended upon the Bang Baby with which they were dealing. Some were more difficult to choose for than others, and Hotstreak was one of the more challenging ones. "But I'm more in favor of something a little less classical and more classic, like Ozzy."

"Ozzy!" Hotstreak looked askance at the feathered female. "You think I'm like Ozzy? C'mon! Why not something fun? Like 'Sabotage' by Beastie Boys. Or 'Party Up' by DMX?"

"Or 'Pretty Fly for a White Guy' by Offspring!" Talon mimicked the pyro's enthusiasm so closely that both Shiv and Hotstreak turned to her.

"Hey, I didn't know you were part parrot," snickered Shiv. A CD case flew through the air, and if it wasn't for the fact that he was expecting it, it would have hit him square in the face. "Hey, I got the perfect one for you, Talon. 'Engel' by Rammstein."

"Thanks," she said, rolling her eyes, "but we aren't talking about me. We're trying to deal with Mr. Macho. Oh, what about 'Macho Man' by The Village People?"

"How about you getting serious?" huffed Hotstreak. He crossed his arms over his chest and flopped down in one of the two armchairs in the room, one leg thrown over the armrest. "What about 'Flirting with Disaster' by..."

"Don't know that song." Shiv shook his head. "And I'm not downloading it."

"Why not?"

"Don't you know?" Shiv replied, looking over his shoulder at the hotheaded teen. "Piracy is bad."

Hotstreak looked at him, considered frying him, and then just shook his head and moved on. There really was no point in trying to figure out those that worshiped crazy people, just like it was a wasted effort trying to figure out crazy people themselves. "What about 'Hold me, Thrill me, Kiss me, Kill me' by U2?"

"'Kashmir' by Led Zeppelin?"

"'Guilty' by Gravity Kills?"

"'Sunday Bloody Sunday' by U2?"

"'Give it Away' by Red Hot Chili Peppers?"

"I've got it!" Shiv twirled in his seat for a moment before coming to a sudden stop so that he could laugh at the other two. "'More Human than Human' by White Zombie!"

"Hey! I like it! That works!" Hotstreak laughed standing up and flexing his fiery powers by forming two spheres of flames, one for each hand.

"Dude!" Shiv exclaimed, sounding remarkably like a female victim from any one of his favorite horror movies. "Watch the fires, man! Not near my babies!"

"Tscha," the redhead smirked, allowing the large spheres of pure flame in his hand to simmer away. "Seems like Talon isn't the only mother hen in here."

Talon stuck her tongue out at him as she sat on the floor, trying to remember the words to the chosen song. Her thoughts were interrupted, though, when Ebon formed himself in the room. "Ebon!"

"Hey. 'Sup?"

"Hey, Ebon," Shiv grinned manically. "We just figured out what song we're going to use for Hotstreak's music vid. I tell ya, using music videos to see stuff is the perfect idea. MTV had a great scam going, back in the day."

"Right," the shadow figure replied dryly. He turned to regard Talon, who was slowly picking up the disc cases and papers from the floor. Not that she was actually organizing them in any order, but she was getting them up off the floor. They were still good discs, after all. "By the way, Talon, I wanted to thank you for all the effort you put into making that disc for me. They were very... enlightening."

"No problem." The only DVDs she had cut recently had been... the one of all the Static footage. It had been over a week since she had started the slow process of cutting and splicing together every second of footage that they had, but she had done it.

Ebon leaned back against a wall leisurely as he looked at the stacks of papers and CDs and DVDs around the room. "Do you have a copy of all the DVDs that you cut for me?"

"Huh?" She stumbled, turning quickly to regard the taller male. Of course she made back-ups, just in case. People weren't the only things lost in these dark passageways, after all. "Oh, yeah, sure. Why?"

"Because I have a new project for you."

Talon put her stacks of cases and papers on a nearby table, one that was already overcrowded with papers and other assortments of... things. As was his habit, once he found an idea, Shiv had abandoned the real world and had invested all of his skills into his new project. He had produced headphones from who only knew where and was listening the Hotstreak's new theme song on repeat.

"Sure thing, Señor," she grinned. "Whatcha want?"

"I want you... to make a music video for me for another auction."

"Yeah?"

"One for Static Shock."

Hotstreak was suddenly paying very close attention to the dialogue between the other two members of the gang. He was always interested in anything that allowed him to beat up on Static. There really was no reason for the level of animosity that he felt towards the other teen, but he felt it all the same. In fact, the only other person he could ever remember feeling such disgust and contempt towards was a punk from way back in the day named Virgil Hawkins.

Talon blinked in surprise at The Breed's leader. "You're going to put Static up?"

"Yep," Ebon nodded. "I've figured out how to do it. Which is why I asked you for all the old footage."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I have a meeting set up for tonight in regards to his capture, but I want to make sure that we have all that we need before we catch him. Because once we get him, I want to make damn sure he ain't around here for any length of time," replied Ebon. "He's one piece of cargo that we need to keep moving through the system."

"I'm on it, Ebon." Talon nodded then turned to Hotstreak and caught his eye. If they caught Static before the next auction, his debut would be delayed for another month. But, that would also mean the electric Defender would be out of their hair and causing someone else's life some misery.

Life was looking up.

-o0o-

Sometimes, Richie seriously questioned his his luck.

He had gotten lost, which was beginning to feel like a habit, and one he would dearly love to break. Looking around, he hoped for some miracle sign that would allow him to find his way back to either the food-hall or to the room he shared with Virgil.

Unfortunately, no miracles were forthcoming.

No one walked down the corridor. No voices could be heard through passageways. Nothing and no one showed up out of nowhere to guide him in the right direction. Richie had frowned, knowing that, having been there over a week, he should have figured out how to make it between his and Virgil's room and the food-hall. He was moderately intelligent, afterall! However, it seemed that he would need even more time. So, being the man he was... He had gone over to the nearest door to knock and ask for directions. Strangely, the door slid open, allowing Richie entrance. That only happened when it was a 'general access' kind of room or his and Virgil's room.

And he entered.

Richie's eyes went wide as he looked around. This wasn't his and Virgil's room. He was beginning to suspect that he wasn't even on the same -level- as his and Virgil's room. But the room he found himself in...

He had no idea where he was. It could have been someone's storage room, someone's workroom, or just a general dumpsite. There was just so much... -stuff- lying around! Sheets of metal were stacked against one wall. Wires were bundled up like balls of yarn set aside for some old crone to come by later to pick up. The air was musty, though there was familiar smell of oil and... coolants. So many sights to see in one little room, and Richie was almost overcome with the base -need- to investigate it all. However, something else caught his eyes almost immediately.

There was a workbench with some tools against one wall, and a half-finished project sitting on top of it.

The blond adjusted his glasses gingerly and walked over to the bench. On it laid a diagram of several computers, and a basic schematic for a suit woven around the computer parts. However, there were also very rough notes for an AI program sketched out along the borders. Just looking at the scribbles was enough to make Richie's head hurt. Not because it was too technical, but...

It was all -wrong-!

The notes made absolutely no sense. Dark eyebrows drew together as Richie sat down, barely noticing the dust he dislodged as he moved. He could see from where the designer of the program was coming and how it was supposed to be woven into the suit, but going with the basic schematics and the design of the human body and human body movements...

"Well, if the person the suit was designed for wasn't human, then that would solve a lot of its inherent problems, and considering who and what some of the Defenders are, it isn't too far out of the question. But, still!" Richie muttered to himself. "This is just... insane!"

He let the notes fall back to the desk, and watched as the pieces of paper fell. When the loose leafs were settled, he turned back to look at the room.

'_Wouldn't it be fun to be able to hang out here, while V's away?' _he thought to himself. The room itself was almost like a mad scientist's laboratory, with chemicals labeled in a glass cabinet and test tubes cleaned and stored on shelves not too far away from the desk. The blond could even spot a covered microscope tucked away in a shadowed corner.

Turning away from the raw material, Richie went further into the room, and eventually came to a more sterile, more 'Star Trek' type room. There was even a computer the size of a big screen television set into the wall, with touch pad type controls. Richie smirked as he walked over to it. He looked around and noticed a chair sitting over by another console. After a quick investigation, the Chosen stole the chair and placed it in front of the larger monitor.

And then he sat down.

And then he forgot about the rest of the world.

The next thing Richie knew, someone was grabbing the back of his chair and whirling him around.

"Hey!" the young Chosen exclaimed, his hands flying out as he tried to keep himself balanced. His first, knee-jerk mental reaction was that whoever this person was could have warned him. His second thought was that the abrupt nature wasn't needed. Then, he thought that maybe it was Virgil trying to make him yelp. Again.

But then, all thought ceased as Richie came face to chest with the person who interrupted him.

"Ohmygod!" Richie squeaked. And then blushed, because he squeaked.

Batman's eyes narrowed as he growled softly, "Not. Quite."

The blond Chosen's mouth opened a few times, but nothing other than a few unintelligible, strangled sounds made it past his lips. Batman knew all of his statistics, all his basic information: where he was from, his full name, his grade point average, his favorite classes, favorite movies, favorite books, and even what he said during his initial interview to become a Chosen. Not that Richard "Richie" Foley was any different than most of the others or any more suspicious. It was just Batman's job to know things. Richard, as Batman made himself think of him in the formal rather than the familiar, was still wearing the Chosen sarong, which almost demanded people to enjoy the view of a lot of exposed flesh. Even as frightened as he obviously was, Richard was a very fetching prize, if only for a short time.

A buzz on the Fortress Intercom distracted Batman from his silent musings. "Batman."

Batman turned away from watching his laboratory intruder and pressed two fingers against the intercom. "Batman, here. What is it, J'onn?"

"Superman is curious to know if you are going to remain in the Fortress tonight."

There was a slight breeze nearby, which caused Batman to turn around just in time to see a pale blur speeding out of his shop. With the way that he was running, Batman knew that the blond didn't know where he was going, much like a scared animal. With an inaudible sigh, Batman turned back to the intercom. "Yes, I'll be here. But I'm going to be busy."

"I will inform him," J'onn said before he allowed Batman to cut the transmission.

The Night Terror turned back to the main computer. His frown slowly turned into a curious scowl as he sat down in front of the monitor, trying to decipher what his guest had been up to.

-o0o-

Ebon stepped out of the shadows and into the dim light carefully, keeping his eyes open. He knew he was in the right place, not because he was -always- in the right place, but just looking around he knew that she was somewhere close at hand.

Everywhere around him, green things were visible. Vines hanging down. Potted plants standing tall. Some things flowered. Some things didn't. If Ebon didn't know any better, he would have sworn he was Alice, shrunk down to size, and trying to find her way through the garden. He wasn't some stupid little white chick, though, and he wasn't in an enchanted garden.

However, he still needed to find a talking flower. Of sorts.

As if sensing his thoughts, some of the greenery began to shift, as if it was more animal than plant. There was a rustle of leaves, causing Ebon to turn in suspicion and surprise. He half-expected to see a giant caterpillar smoking pot on a big 'shroom. Vines and leaves moved away from the path, allowing a white-pebbled pathway of the rooftop garden to make itself known. The man of shadows kept his paranoia around him like a second skin, as he walked down the indicated road. One never knew what to expect when one came to Gotham. Men in bat suits were the least of his concerns.

Fortunately, Ebon didn't have to go far. A curtain of flowering vines swept aside to reveal the person he came to see.

Some artists have tried to capture Nature's beauty in paintings, sculptures, and scripts. However, he doubted any of them had ever seen the woman that was reclining very seductively in front of him. Her hair was as red as some of the flowers that surrounded her. Her skin held a slightly greenish tint to it, but considering all that Ebon had seen, a slightly greenish tint was nothing to concern him. And there was a lot of skin to see, as she seemed to be almost completely nude. In fact, she only wore a gossamer dress that was split up the side so that Ebon could take time in appreciating the expanse of leg on display. Looking at her, from toes to hair back down to legs, he did take notice that she was also wearing a slight smile.

It was easy to see the beauty in the image in front of him, but Ebon never allowed the knowledge that this woman was incredibly, monstrously Dangerous. With a capital D. "Hey, there, Miss Ivy."

"Hello, Ebon," she replied in a soft, seductive voice. "How are you? Would you care to take a seat?"

Beside him, vines suddenly began to twist around themselves, rustling and fighting until a chair slowly formed. He blinked once, as he thought about refusing her hospitality, but then sat down and leaned against the tall back formed by more vines. If push came to shove, he could use his powers to slip out of any restraints she could come up with. "I'm good, and you?"

"Oh, I'm doing very well," came her response. She leaned up, which caused her dress to gape for a moment, flashing more of her pale green flesh. She swung her legs forward so that she was seated facing Ebon, and then she leaned forward with a bare hand. When she was just in front of him, she splayed her hand wide, and an apple dropped from somewhere high up. "Can I offer you some refreshments?"

Ebon looked at the proffered apple, and his mind rushed back to an old Bible story. The one about Adam and Eve. About the woman who got everyone kicked out of Eden. There was also the story of Snow White, who was offered a poisoned apple from some old queen. Again, he was not some stupid white chick. Of course, the lady in front of him couldn't be classified as that either. "Thank you, Miss Ivy, but no. One, I know you don't like men. Two, I know you like to poison people. So, thank you, but no."

"Hmm." She shrugged her delicate shoulders and leaned back onto her lounge chair, keeping her bright green eyes on him as she bit into the red fruit. After a moment, when she had swallowed the bite, she asked, "Well, if you are not here for pleasure, I take it that you are here on business?"

"Yes, ma'am." Ebon relaxed. Even though he knew he was in a place where nothing was really safe, not the water, not the air, and most definitely not the earth, he was quite sure that he was able to handle the situation. "I'm here to bargain with you."

"Oh?" she responded with a slight smirk. "And tell me, what makes you think that you have anything I want?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to reply with a tart remark, but he held it back. He was a businessman, after all. He could hold his tongue. "There are no guarantees, in business or in life, but there is always the possibility of profit."

Poison Ivy raised an eyebrow at that. "Too true."

"What would you say if I offered you first dibs on the next seven Dark Disciples?" Ebon posed, leaning back in his chair with his fingers steepled in front of him. "And for you, I'll let you make me an offer, a yes or no deal. And if you like one of them, then you get them."

"I could offer a very low sum. You would still be willing?" Her sharp teeth sank into her apple again.

"Ma'am, I am a man of my word."

Both of the redhead's eyebrows rose at that. As many times as she had heard -that- particular line, she was amazed that he even tried to feed it to her. But then, she had tried to give him the apple as well. "Ebon, do you realize what you just said? Do you seriously think I am a fool?"

"No, ma'am, I think you are an extremely dangerous lady. Which is why I refused your apple. I ain't a fool either. I figure it was poisoned."

"Hm." Poison Ivy's lips curved ever so slightly as she relaxed in her chair. "You were right, the apple was poisonous. To you. At any rate, this is a very generous offer. What's the catch?"

"I need your help," stated Ebon easily, though it rankled at his insides to admit such a thing. "I have a slight... pest control problem."

"Pest control?"

"Yes," the man of shadows affirmed. "Dakota has a slight... lightning bug problem."

For a moment, the reference was lost on Poison Ivy. But then she understood. She understood very well. "And what, Ebon, do you think I can do to help you?"

The dark male almost smiled. Almost. "His powers only work on things that have metal in them or carry a current. Wood doesn't carry a current. You also have several poisons, several tranquilizers, at your disposal."

"So, for the weapons that you need to bring him down, you will allow me... preferential treatment when it comes to selecting from the next seven of your lot?" she inquired, wanting clarification and to know if Ebon was serious.

"Ma'am, if I thought he'd be of any use to you, and if I had him right now, I'd offer you Static himself. But..."

"But right now, all you have is a plan," she supplied, nodding her head, "and not the man."

"Right."

There was a moment of silence as Poison Ivy closed her eyes, as if she was about to fall asleep. A slow, sly grin spread across her face, beautiful to behold. She leaned back down on her chair, even as the plant life around them began to rustle and move.

An hour later, Ebon was able to leave with a small vial of poison and several long, wooden darts.


	4. Cages

_Author: Summer Starr  
__Disclaimer: I don't own DC, WB, or the like. That means Static Shock, JL, Teen Titans, Batman, Superman, or any other villains or heroes that you might notice are not mine, and in no way reflect the company's motto.  
__Warnings: **Slash** (Virgil/Richie, GL/Flash, Supes/Bats, others), **Alternate Universe**, **Crossover**  
__Author's Note: If some characters seem OOC, then it's my fault because I don't have as good a handle on them as I'd like. I will say that getting into Martian Manhunter's head is extremely difficult, especially since he's a telepath. And I'd like to give a big Thank You to all of those who've reviewed. I love feedback. It makes me smile.  
__Ratings: M  
__Title: Like A Dream_

**Like A Dream  
**Chapter Four

He may have been Martian Manhunter, but sometimes he wished he was just J'onn J'onzz again. He wished for a lot of things, though. Such as Home.

Sometimes, he missed Mars, not because it was his home, but because it was so much... quieter. Humans, for the most part, did not realize how loudly their thoughts projected out to him. Their incessant, selfish mental babbling was enough to drive the most steadfast hero to insanity.

But, as much as he missed life on Mars, and its semi-communal living, he knew that he could never go back to it. Darkness blinds as easily as extreme light, and as much as the constant noise of other people's thoughts distracted him, utter silence would kill him.

To keep himself balanced, the Mars native tried to tone his telepathy down to its barest flittering touch along the many different minds around him. Sometimes, if it became a bit too much of a strain -not- listening, he would pick out different Defenders, or sometimes their Chosen, to listen to. Of course, this activity also allowed him to take free 'lessons' in Human Culture. Or at least, what passed for human culture among the Defenders.

Tiredly, J'onn opened his eyes again. This... this was his new Home, and it was up to him to deal with that.

Around him, there were several humans working on various control stations, monitoring the living environment on the station. Unlike a planet, a space station had to be watched overly closely because the slightest drop in a given gauge could mean life or death for some members of the crew. Granted, the same could be said for the planet spinning below them, but no one wanted to imagine that their world was so very fragile.

No one wanted to be reminded that life was so fragile.

He knew where his thoughts were going. He knew the path well. And because he did, he was able to predict his mental ventures. Turning, he found Superman positioned over a console. He hesitated for only a moment before approaching the red-caped Defender. They had a lot in common, more than some of the other Defenders. They were among the last of their people, the last living embodiments of their planet. They were Defenders for an adopted world. Some might even consider them brothers, though they did not do so. Still, there was no need for hesitation on his part. "Superman..."

"Yes, J'onn?" the Kryptonian asked, not even looking up from the readout that was being printed for him.

"I need to rest. I will return later."

"All right. I'll take over here," Superman nodded, taking charge without really needing to. There were other Defenders on the bridge, all equally capable of taking charge.

Without a second thought, the green-skinned alien phased through the floor. He flew down corridors, through walls, through floors, until he was safe. Once the comforting walls of his room, which could be seen as a lab but was mostly just his retreat, he sat down on a round mound of cushions. His mimicry of the human visage dissolved around him, and he was once more in his own, natural body.

And then he let his mind... drift.

Some minds were chaotic and quiet, a reflection of dreams and musings. Others had very clear thoughts, very clear minds, very clear desires. Sadly, they were all reflections of each other, in some way...

'..._What is it going to take to make her like me...?_'

'..._I miss Momma..._'

'..._I could really go for a pizza right now..._'

'_...How does it go? How does it go? What are the lyrics? Hell, what's the name of the damn thing...?_'

'_...What should I wear? Maybe the teal dress? What does he like...?_'

'_...another mission, another day, and another chance to fail. I know they're waiting for me to fail. I just know it..._'

'_...If I have to clean this room one more time, I'm gonna scream!_'

'_...That's not it. That's not it. That's not it..._'

'_T… T… Tr… Tr… Tran… Tran... Damn, the music selection here is just too much…_'

'..._I wonder what Wonder Woman would do in a situation like this...?_'

'..._Why isn't there anything good to read anymore? Why can't I be entertained anymore...?_'

'..._When I get my hands on that rat-bastard, I'm gonna kill him. I swear I am! Who does he think he is, stealing Attack of the Killer Zombies III before I've gotten a chance to play it...?_'

'_...bet Flash isn't the fastest in bed. I bet he likes to take his time there. I bet he'd be totally willing to go -real- slow if given the right... partner. Ooh, look at how he smiles. And he's so affectionate! Always touching his friends, like Lantern. I bet he'd be -great- in bed..._'

'..._I need a shower. Three showers and I still smell bad..._'

Humans could seem so selfish at times. So incredibly selfish. And yet, they were so alone in their minds, so alienated from each other. It really was no surprise that they thought only of themselves. They really couldn't think of others first, as they had only their own thoughts to go on.

His musings were interrupted, though, when he came to a familiar ticklish buzzing sensation. It was a familiar feeling, one he received whenever he tried to read the minds of the more electrically charged members of the Defenders. J'onn was not sure if he wanted to investigate further, as he knew that Static's mind was often times less than informative, but sometimes... sometimes, it proved to be oddly entertaining.

Merging his mind with that of Virgil's, he was able to see, to hear, to taste, to feel, to know all that the dark-skinned hero was experiencing.

The first thing that the Martian noticed was the utter quiet of the room. Usually, when the young Defender was awake, he had some sort of jarring noise playing in the background. But this time, there was no sound in the background. Or rather, the sounds were so soft, so dull, that it was only because the electric hero was focusing on them that J'onn was able to hear them. Amazingly, the teenager had no thoughts clouding his mind, just... just emotions. Raw emotions. J'onn/Virgil licked his lips as he looked through the semi-darkness of the room. There was another figure in the large bed, a standard issue sized bed, who was sound asleep.

Richie. His name was Richie. He was Virgil's age. He was from Virgil's home. He was... similar in so many ways, yet so different. The paler figure was turned away, his fists tucked up under his chin and his hair in complete disarray. The covers were pulled up to chest level, but even without sight, J'onn/Virgil knew that the other male was in the only piece of clothing he really owned, which was the Chosen's sarong, and it had ridden up to his middle during the night. There was the feel of warm, bare flesh under the covers.

J'onn/Virgil raised his hand, brushing dark fingers lightly over Richie's cheek before smoothing through almost translucent short locks of hair. Soft. So very soft. All of him was.

J'onn was taken aback by how... gentle the young man was being. The blatant desire Virgil felt for his Chosen was evident to the Martian, like a peppery taste in his mouth. But even though there were no clear thoughts of warning or restraint, Virgil was being so... delicate. It was... unusual.

Virgil leaned down, unknowingly taking his mental passenger with him, and brushed his lips over Richie's shoulder. J'onn could feel the slide of smooth skin over lips that were not his. Could taste the slightly cool flesh as Virgil ran the tip of his tongue over a small patch. Instead of continuing to kiss his Chosen, as J'onn expected him to do, Virgil leaned back and got out of bed. His mind began to buzz with overt thoughts again, as he made himself be as quiet as possible, trying not to wake the blond.

Removing himself from the increasingly loud, jarring thoughts that echoed with a static-like tickle, J'onn tried to move on to other minds. But in his mental travels, he continued to think on that moment, when Virgil had just been -looking- at his Chosen.

As if Richie had been a gift.

As if nothing in the world was quite as precious.

There was a restraint there from which some of the teenager's fellow Defenders could learn. Not a conscious, overt thought, rather it was... something else. J'onn had been in many minds, especially when he was 'new' to Earth and unable to suppress his telepathy quite as well as he was able to now. He knew that others would be embarrassed if they knew that he had been spying on them, even if it hadn't been by his consent. But then, his people shared an open consciousness. Nothing was 'private', so to speak. They shared in each other's love, basked in the transmitted affection. Here, though, things were done differently. People horded their emotions, and then twisted them into selfish creations.

That wasn't to say that all of the Defenders were selfish, self-loving individuals. It was just unusual that he found it in someone so... young. Not even Robin—who had been trained by Batman himself, whom many considered to be the embodiment of restraint—showed such inclinations.

But then, Batman wasn't as restrained as many imagined him to be, either. Batman, for whom Wonder Woman cared, yet who slept with Superman if only for a 'good lay' as some of the humans would say, but who remained as emotionally detached as J'onn himself did. The Night Terror was bottled violence, and when the bottle broke, there was pain and terror and suffering involved. Which was why Batman released the pressure of his self-imposed cage by any means he deemed necessary, whether it was hunting down criminals or through carnal delights. J'onn knew of Batman's escapades, both in the training rooms where he trained without the safety on whenever he was alone and able, and when he sought out sexual partners. Not because he broadcasted these things, because of all those within the Fortress, Batman was the only person that J'onn could not read. No, the Martian knew these things because Batman went to such great pains to... hide them.

Though was it really hiding the facts when everyone knew them?

The green-skinned male pulled his mind from its random flight, pulled his thoughts to himself, and then pulled them into himself. His red eyes glowed faintly in the dim light as he began to meditate.

-o0o-

Virgil had never mastered the art of taking a cold shower. Even when he was living back in Dakota, when he had to share the single bathroom with his Pops and his sister Sharon, he had always managed to take at least warm showers. Cold showers... were just unpleasant.

He had made sure to close the door to the bathroom before he had turned on the light, trying to let Richie sleep for as long as he wanted to. Why he took such precautions he really wasn't sure, as it wasn't like the blond had that much to do during the day. Still, he was being careful. Virgil leaned his head forward, letting the hot water rush down his back, some of it streaming to his chest and abs before snaking around his legs.

He really needed to get off.

Seriously.

It didn't help that Richie was lying practically naked in his bed, all soft and warm and comfortable. It didn't help that he knew that the little white strip of fabric that was supposed to be clothing was acting as nothing more than a belt. It didn't help that Virgil really just wanted to run his hands all over Richie's skin. It didn't help that he wanted to follow the touching with—

No, it didn't help. At. All. Because he wasn't going to get off.

It was tempting, though. Tempting to just reach down and—

'_No!_' Virgil mentally chastised himself. He wasn't going to. He was NOT going to. At least, not any time soon.

But he really, really wanted to.

And really, what was stopping him? Other than the fact that Virgil knew he wouldn't be able to keep quiet, and he didn't want to wake his bed partner even though there -was- a closed door between him and the blond. Or the fact that he didn't want Richie to give himself over out of a sense of obligation or duty. That... That wasn't cool. That wasn't what he wanted. Virgil knew that he probably wasn't the most romantic of guys, but he still wanted someone to come willingly, voluntarily to his bed.

Okay, so he really wanted -Richie- to come willingly and voluntarily to his bed. Though some might argue that by offering himself up as a Chosen he -was- coming willing and able, that didn't ring true in Virgil's mind.

Growling softly to himself, he quickly picked up the bar of soap. Time to go to a tutoring session, and then to patrol. This part of being a teenage Defender was left out of the tour books, though there really wasn't a good reason for it. The life of a Defender was pretty good, if one was completely out of high school and was on a payroll instead of an allowance. But he wasn't, and being a Defender could sometimes get in the way of studies. Going to school at the Fortress meant that he didn't have to go to class for eight hours, then study, then patrolling, and then get a few hours sleep. No, it meant most of his time was invested in patrolling, with taking a few classes during the week.

The room where each of the teenage Defenders learned had several desks, with computers. There were also several private tutors in those classrooms. There weren't any books, as books took up too much space in a location where space was at a premium, especially when printed material could just as easily be typed up on a computer screen.

No uncomfortable chairs. No teachers unaware of other responsibilities. No heavy books to lug around. No other students in 'class' with him, unless they were getting tutored by another teacher who happened to be in the same room with him.

Of course, there were also no vacations unless one was out saving the galaxy, and really, did those count as vacations? And there was still homework. Virgil didn't bring his homework home, though. He doubted he'd ever get any studying done with Richie anywhere near him. There was also the fact that he didn't want Richie to know that he was still in school. He seemed upset enough that Virgil was on an allowance. Virgil knew that Richie had gotten his G.E.D., as was the minimum requirement for all applicants who wanted to become Chosen.

Some Chosen didn't have a degree when they arrived, though. Like Robin. Special cases.

Robin started out as Batman's Chosen. But he wasn't the first, and he wouldn't be the last, and everyone knew it, including Robin. Batman had picked him up off the streets—from God only knew where because neither Batman nor Robin were talking about it—and brought him to the Fortress. Brought him to this life. But there came a point when Robin was no longer a Chosen, when the Night Terror decided that he was something... else. A budding Defender. All Robins became Defenders. That was just the way it went. First, there was NightWing, and then there was Oracle, and then there was Batgirl, and then there was... Robin. No rhyme to Batman's selection. No reason as far as Virgil could detect. All were young, nimble, intelligent, scrappy kids.

Kids like him.

Only without the superpowers.

Virgil turned off the water. Opening the fogged up glass door, he reached for a towel.

On the upside, if he managed to pass a course, he didn't have to take tutoring sessions on it. It took everything he had to pass Latin. '_Who speaks Latin these days?_' Virgil had also managed to pass all of his sciences and math classes up to the college undergraduate level. He was very proud of that, especially as he was only a junior at the time.

But, that was last year. Now there was Literature. Deciphering poems was harder than figuring out where Ebon's latest hide out was. And one couldn't forget his below acceptable grades in world history. If only he could find a way to make the class -interesting-! It was just so... dry. And dead! And boring!

Virgil checked the clock. He had a few more moments to dress, run down to the cafeteria, grab some food, and then rush over to his tutoring session. And in two and a half hours, he'd be flying the electric currents over the streets of Dakota, just in time for the midday bell to ring at Dakota High.

Sometimes, he missed it. Missed hanging out with 'normal' teenagers. Missed going to the arcade. Missed real school, afterschool activities, sports in general, and regular living in particular. But then there were other times when he wouldn't trade his life for anyone's. Could he really give up flying? Fighting crime? Helping others?

Finished dressing in his Defender garb, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. Could he give up being a Defender and go back to being regular ol' Virgil Hawkins?

Could he give up living in space with his heroes? Could he move back planet-side? Could he stand getting a real, meaningless, boring job? Could he settle for what the rest of the world had when he could be... When he could be -this-?

A Defender.

A -hero-.

Slipping out of the bathroom, he paused to let his eyes adjust to the gloom of his room. And when he was finally able to make out the dull gray haze of shadows and shades, he noticed Richie was still asleep, and was resting on his stomach. The sheet was tossed down to his lower back, and he had one arm thrown out to the side, as if reaching for him.

Could he give up being a Defender? Could he give up being a hero? Could he give up his reward for being a hero, which was Richie?

'_Not in -this- lifetime._' Virgil grinned, pulling on his mask as he slipped out of the room. He slung his shield over his shoulder as he exited his, and Richie's, room.

Life was good.

-o0o-

The corridors of the Fortress were well lit, with very few shadows allowed to rest anywhere. The bright lights were constantly on, and if it were not for the clocks that littered the rooms, no one would have been able to tell if it was 'night' or 'day'. Granted, each person had to deal with their own time zones, and the clocks in the rooms reflected that.

For Bruce Wayne, AKA Batman, it should have been early morning. Almost time for him to finally be able to rest. Villains had a habit of keeping late nights, and rarely surfacing during the morning and afternoon hours, the occasional bank robbery notwithstanding. Which was just as well. It allowed him some time to sleep. However, he had one errand to run before he would be able to rest. A very important, private errand.

Unfortunately, in the Fortress, nothing was ever private.

Crime was enjoying a lull in Gotham, which made the menacing Defender cautious. When the criminals were quiet, it meant that they were up to something. When he had built the Fortress, one of the rules of being a Defender was that everyone had to file paperwork. And though each and every Defender seemed to hate the chore, they all knew from whom the order came, and they all diligently, if reluctantly, filed the needed information away. Even Batman had to fill out the necessary datasheet. He sent the information with a press of a button and waited for the pieces of data to join their brethren. Later, when his mind was clearer, he would return to see if there was anything pertinent to any ongoing investigations. He would look for any kind of pattern that might give a clue as to what the criminals of Gotham were up to.

In the meantime, while there -was- a break, he intended to use it.

Sitting at his console on the main bridge, Batman brought up Static's daily routine. One eyebrow arched under his mask as he noticed the large amount of field time the young Defender had been clocking. Almost nine-hour days out in the field, two for studies, and the rest was for... whatever he wanted them to be. Most young Defenders only clocked time when they were called for special missions or when they were running practice drills.

But then, most young Defenders weren't in charge of protecting their own city. And certainly none were in charge of protecting a city as... volatile as Dakota.

Batman gave a small smile. This could work to his advantage.

With a few deft keystrokes, Batman pulled up all the available information that he could on one Richard Oswald Foley, AKA Richie. In his mind, Batman shrugged off the more familiar name. For him, it would be safer to refer to the boy as Richard. He didn't stop with the basic information provided by the application for the Chosen Program, either. He went deeper, checking medical histories, how often he used his library card, what grades he made when he was in school, how often the police had been to his house and for what reasons. He then checked the marital status of his parents, their work history, their financial status, their school records, their family connections, and their medical history.

He kept the blond's picture on the screen, even as dozens of information pop-ups appeared. Each document was a little piece of the puzzle that made up the entire picture of who Richard was.

"He's a little old for you, isn't he, Bruce?" came a soft-spoken reprimand. Superman was standing right behind the darker figure, looking at the screen with a slight frown. He knew that Batman was far more intelligent than almost, if not everyone, who resided within the Fortress, including himself. However, it didn't take a super genius to figure out what the super sleuth was up to.

Without concern, Batman retorted, "So are you."

Clark Kent, known to most as merely Superman, rocked back a step. He knew that Bruce could be as heartless, as cold, and as vicious as any of their numerous foes. He knew it, and for the most part, he remembered it whenever he went seeking the other male. That didn't stop him from always being surprised when that cool disregard was turned on him. Some considered him a fool for thinking that by reaching out to him, by offering what Bruce said he wanted, that he might somehow tame the beast within him. But that never happened. Bruce would always remain as he was.

Hard. Jaded. Alone.

Superman warned, his voice increasingly soft, "You know you can't touch him. Not without Static's permission."

"That won't be a problem."

With narrowed eyes, Superman spun around and walked off.

Batman listened from his station, briefly closing his eyes as a tension headache began to form. He didn't need Clark's bitchiness -or- his possessiveness. He had helped Clark make this group of heroes, the Defenders, partly to get the red-caped flyer out of his hair, but also because it was a sound idea. Clark was a good man, full of ideals and hopes and dreams. But, sometimes, he could get a bit too righteous and domineering. Having other super-powered people around would, in theory, give the Kryptonian enough problems that he could micromanage to his heart's content. He knew that he didn't need Clark as a lover. What he needed was—

Forcibly derailing that thought, Batman saved what information he had on both Richard and Static to a flash drive. Then, he went hunting.

He knew what the rest of the Fortress thought of him. He knew that some held a wealth of disdain and disgust for him, while others looked upon him with open fear. There were some that did their best to be friendly, such as the Flash. There were others that looked to him with respect but without the need for approval or the usual fear, such as Green Lantern and Static, as well as his own protégés.

However, there were few people that Batman sought out. And of those people, they usually had a specific function in his life; he needed them for a specific reason and at a specific time. After they had fulfilled their use to him, he always found it very easy to let them go, to let them move on with their lives.

There was one person that he rarely sought out, though. One person whose company he enjoyed but rarely took the opportunity to enjoy. One person on the station he respected enough not to... With narrowed eyes, the Gotham Defender continued forward. If there was one thing Bruce knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was that relationships always ended badly for him.

The twisting hallways did nothing for Batman, as he had designed them to be somewhat confusing. He had made sure to take advantage of every little advantage the layout of the Fortress could offer. There was no point in allowing potential enemies an easy-to-navigate system, and if a person were here long enough, they would learn. Or, more to the point, they would find a map or at least learn how to use the computer consoles that were strategically placed along the hallways.

Having printed out Virgil's schedule, Batman knew precisely where to go. Due to the hour, and the fact that most of the other teenagers preferred to have later classes, Batman passed not a single soul on their way to or from the classroom. When he arrived, he noticed a few teachers sitting at a communal desk, talking in soft tones, with another sitting next to the dark-skinned hero. As soon as he stepped into the room, all activity stopped. Even Virgil looked up from his monitor.

"I need to speak with Static. -Alone-."


	5. Liquid

_Author: Summer Starr  
__Disclaimer: I came, I saw, I wrote fanfiction for. No profit is being made, so don't sue. My credit card is already suffering under a heavy strain.  
__Warnings: **Slash** (Virgil/Richie, GL/Flash, Sups/Bats, a lot of others), **Alternate Universe**, **Crossover**  
__Author's Note: Amazing how a one shot can turn into an epic, isn't it?  
__Ratings: M  
__Title: Like A Dream_

**Like A Dream  
**Chapter Five

"Nothing like a hot shower," Talon murmured to herself as she packed up her things. There was one shower, just like in a real house, and they all had to share. Not only did they have to share the shower, but they also had to share the hot water. They all took their turns, but they also all packed their own things.

For her, she had special soaps and shampoos, designed for a bird's body. And she hated it. Just holding the bottle made her sick, made her angry, made her want to weep. But try as she might, she could not ignore the fact that she was no longer human. She couldn't ignore a fact that slapped her in the face every waking moment of every waking day.

Sometimes she dreamed she was human again. But lately... lately, even in her dreams, she was a bird.

Two nights ago, with a scream caught in her throat, she woke up from a nightmare. She had been a bird, small and happy. Then, she had forgotten how to fly. Falling from the sky, she wasn't able to find any kind of lift, any kind of salvation. And just as the ground was rushing up to meet her, she woke up. It was fortunate that she captured her scream; otherwise, she might have knocked in a wall or three.

Before that, there was the dream of someone plucking all her feathers out and throwing her in a pot. And then there was the faceless chef, who stirred in potatoes that looked like Carmen Dillo and carrots that looked like Hotstreak.

She knew she wasn't the only one who had nightmares, though. There were others that had them. They went unspoken, but... they occurred often enough.

With her bath bag packed with her things, including her dirty laundry, Talon left the bathroom and headed towards her room. There, in her private place, she would play with her hair, what little there was left of it, before finally braiding it for the night.

The labyrinth of tunnels she had to take to get to her room, which happened to be the room farthest from the rest of the group, was a well-worn path to her. She could walk it in her sleep, if she needed to. And in fact, she was almost dozing when she became aware of the sound of voices, echoing down her tunnel. Well, it wasn't her tunnel, but it was the path she took to her hidden room.

She approached the curve of brick and stonewalls carefully, trying not to make a sound. Peeking around the bend, she was able to see the speaker, or rather speakers.

"I dunno, Francis," said Aquamaria, her voice bubbling from her mutation. She was sitting on one of the large, empty crates that they had found in the tunnels. Or, she seemed to be sitting. With a body made of pure water, Talon found it hard to imagine describing any action Aquamaria took as anything other than fighting, moving, or resting.

"You're worrying over nothing." Hotstreak grinned, strutting over to the liquid girl.

Clear arms crossed over a clear chest as the Hispanic girl retorted, "And you take things too lightly."

The pyro shook his head as he placed his hands on the box, pretending to trap her. "You'll see. I'm gonna get bought by a high roller, I just know it. And then I'll be in the big times, making the big bucks."

"Yeah, so you say, but..."

"And then! And then, I'll come back for you, and we'll start our -own- organization," the redhead promised, bringing his hands up to cup Aquamaria's chin, or what she formed as her chin. "You'll see."

There was the sound of sizzling, like water spilt onto a hot burner on a stove, as Hotstreak touched the liquid meta-human. But if Aquamaria was in pain, she didn't say so, and it couldn't be heard in her soft questioning, "You promise?"

"I promise," Francis nodded. "You and me. You'll see."

What was said or done after that, Talon had no clue. She quickly turned away from the tender scene and marched back towards the shared area. Part of her felt guilty for having eavesdropped as much as she did. It was their affair. It was their lives. So what if they were never able to... -do- anything. Fire and water did not mix, no matter how it tried. Water was either burned away into vapor, or fire was extinguished.

To top off that problem, Hotstreak was leaving! Leaving Aquamaria and everyone else behind. Leaving Dakota behind. Life outside of Dakota changed people. Which wasn't to say that life within Dakota left them untouched, but... What if Hotstreak was bought by someone like the Joker? Or the Penguin? What then? They were Batman's enemies, and everyone knew that to go against the Night Terror meant going crazy, sometimes with fear but other times just... going crazy.

Would Hotstreak go crazy if he went against Batman?

What if Alva Industries bought Hotstreak? What if Luthor Corp bought him? What if Brother Blood bought him? What if some foreign government bought him? What if...?

Talon sighed. She didn't need to worry like this. After all, Hotstreak wasn't -her- boyfriend.

She stalked into the common area, where Kangor, Puff, and Shiv were playing a game of cards. None of the three bothered to look up as she entered, which was just as well. She wasn't in the mood to talk. Instead, she found a shadowed corner and made herself comfortable, perched to watch her tunnel. She was going to wait for Hotstreak and Aquamaria to leave.

Where she was crouching, she was able to see the Chalkboard. She had no idea who had gotten the thing, or where, or how, but strangely enough, no one damaged it or messed with it. There was graffiti all over the walls and down entire tunnels in some cases, but the Chalkboard remained in pristine condition. She liked it because it was just as out of place as the rest of them were, especially down in the Tunnels. But the others liked it for another reason.

That's where the names were. The names of those who might bid in the next auction. And their odds of winning. There was a general pool that went around, everyone contributed five dollars and named the person that they thought was going to 'win' the latest Dark Disciple.

Before any bets could be placed this go around, though, Ebon had to give them all the go-ahead. This time, there was a... complication: Poison Ivy. Not that she begrudged the woman her opportunity, but it was out of the routine.

At the table, the game was in full stride. Shiv cackled as he dealt the cards, though he made sure to keep his energy out of them and therefore his head on his shoulders. Puff had a nasty temper, especially when things blew up in her face. "All right, all right. Playing by the rules. No tricks. No treats. Just the same dumb luck that could only be owned by fools."

"Oh, look, Kangor, Shiv is trying to rhyme," Puff sneered as she accepted the cards.

"And doin' a piss-poor job of it, too," came the heavily accented reply.

Shiv mocked them in retaliation with exaggerated pantomiming.

Puff smirked at his antics and then demanded two cards.

"So, what d'you t'ink of Ebon's plan? T'ink we gonna be able to snatch Static?" Kangor asked as he demanded three cards.

They had all be practicing throwing darts at a foam model of Static, complete with a dyed black mop top for his hair, braided in a way that it almost looked like dreadlocks. Shiv was a natural at throwing the instruments, but the rest of the Breed needed to work at it. Everyone except Hotstreak, who was to be auctioned within the week, and Aquamaria, for whom Ebon had other plans.

If it came to a knife fight, using wooden darts as makeshift knives, then most of the others would be okay, since no one thought Static carried a blade. Again, Shiv was the best at that as well.

"I don't think the question is if we can, I think the question is... who do ya think would want him?" Puff retorted. "He's a Defender, for crying out loud. Getting caught with him -alive- is gonna cause some -serious- trouble for whoever gets him."

"That's if they keep him alive," snickered Shiv.

"Why buy him if you're just going to kill him?" Talon interjected from her corner, deciding it was better to join in than to be an outsider among outsiders. She ran a claw through still wet hair. "He'd be useful. A living battery. Able to power an entire city, or some secret base, or even just use him for experiments. There are several armies that'd like to get their hands on someone with the kind of power he can generate. More use alive than dead, I think. 'Sides, having his corpse anywhere near you or the things you love would cause even -more- trouble."

"So, Miss Smartass, who do -you- think would buy him?" Shiv grinned, taking the sting out of his words.

"Someone with money. A LOT of money," she answered.

"Alva or Luthor Corp," Puff nodded.

"I be t'inkin' da Gorilla. Grodd, wasn't it? He's smart. Bet he could use a walkin' bat'try." Kangor smirked, laying down a straight.

The others threw their cards down in disgust, allowing Kangor to take the pot.

"Well, my money is on the Main Man, The Joker."

Again, the others groaned, but this time it was more because they already knew that Shiv was going to do that. Shiv always bet on The Joker. Talon wasn't so sure why, but she suspected that the white faced clown was Shiv's idol. Why anyone would look up to a crazy person, she didn't know, and she didn't ask.

As far as she was concerned, if someone's hideout was in Gotham, they had to be crazy. The criminal element of that city was utterly insane. The Night Terror... The Bat did it to them. Batman drove them insane. The whole Bat family did. Sometimes, when she had too much time on her hands and wanted to distract herself, Talon wondered who the Bat-momma was.

And tonight, Ebon was dealing with one of Gotham's locals. As if summoned by thoughts of him, Ebon arrived in the living quarters, swirling out from the wall.

Ebon knew all eyes in the room were on him, and if he had been in one of those old movies, he knew that the record would have scratched to a halt with his arrival. He noticed the table with the cards and money, as well as Talon, who looked to be fresh from the shower. "Where's Hotstreak?"

"Down in the tunnels," Talon replied, standing. "You want me to go get him?"

"Nah." Ebon shook his head, raising his hand to get her to sit back down. "He can find out later." He moved over to take a seat in one of the reclining chairs and let his head fall back.

"...So?" blurted out Shiv, unable to control himself.

If he'd been more than just shadows, someone might have seen Ebon grin. As it was, they heard his amusement in his voice. "She... declined."

"YES!" Shiv shouted, jumping up and bumping the table, causing several coins and several chips to fly off. He danced over to the Chalkboard and began marking for wagers. He was automatically up for the Joker. He turned to the others in the room. "Ladies and Gentleman, all bets are ON!"

Ebon laughed softly as the others tried to figure out whom they wanted to wager on this time. He had gone to Gotham with a full presentation: a music video entrance that was their classic theme which actually used the theme song from "Cops", a brief introduction of Hotstreak including basic stats and biology plus an interview about himself and why he liked who he was, followed by a music video montage, and then finally the signal to begin bids. The presentation had been burned to disc, but Ebon had taken his own laptop, not only as a security measure for her but also so that he could at least appear a bit more professional.

He had gone through the entire schpiel, and she had turned to him, one stylish eyebrow raised and the look on her face telling him, in no uncertain terms, that he had to be insane.

"I don't think so."

Ebon had not been the least bit surprised that she had rejected his offer. If -he- had been made of wood, or plants, or whatever it was that she was made of, he wouldn't have wanted to be around a boy that had a temper that was so hot it could literally melt asphalt.

Nevertheless, he'd agreed to give her first dibs on the next seven, which happened to include the hothead in question.

Of course, now Ebon had to make sure that the others offered weren't going to be outright refused. He needed to make sure that Ivy didn't think he was stiffing her on a potential profit. Because, just as her name stated, she was Poison.

Walking into the living area, and disturbing Ebon's thoughts in the process, Hotstreak tried to overpower the commotion of the others by brute strength. Or rather, by just being louder. "Hey! What's going on here?"

Talon snapped, "I don't think they heard you up at the Defenders' Fortress."

"You got RE-jected!" Puff snickered.

"Turned down, mon."

"Guess you just aren't as 'hot-stuff' as you thought," remarked Shiv with a wink.

The redhead opened his mouth to retort, but the liquid female behind him giggled, and the snarky comeback died in his throat. Instead he settled for glaring at all of them before he noticed Ebon in the chair. "That right?"

"Yep."

"Well." The pyrokenetic male drew in a deep breath. He turned to look at Puff and Kangor once more before turning to Shiv. "Put me down for Alva Industries. I trashed their place a while back. They might be interested in some payback."

"Francis!" Aquamaria gasped.

"Well, it's true."

The liquid female would have rolled her eyes if it were still possible. She did manage to shake her head and cross her arms. "In that case, put me down for Brother Blood, he's always interested in young potentials."

"Yeah, like -he's- got any potential," Talon snickered. She and Aquamaria shared a look, and they both broke out into a fit of giggles.

Hotstreak looked between them and shook his head, giving up. He'd much rather go up against Static Shock than either one of them, and all the Defenders rather than both of them.

-o0o-

Virgil came home tired, sore, and soaked through with sweat. But his shoes were still intact, so that was something.

He stepped through the door and immediately stopped. Richie was coming out of the bedroom, and obviously just out of the shower, draped in nothing but a towel. His hair poked up and out in disheveled blond spikes. Virgil felt his mouth water slightly at the sight of shower drops still clinging to the paler male's shoulders. Standing there, in his own place, Virgil felt like the proverbial deer in headlights.

Richie seemed oblivious to Virgil's reaction, pushing his glasses up his nose and smiling. "Hey, V! You're home!"

"Yeah..." Virgil nodded, his voice sounding softer and more horse than it needed to. He tried to cover his reaction by removing his shield, but he was still feeling a bit of soreness from a less-that-stellar run-in with some run-of-the-mill bank robber, and he let out a soft gasp of pain as he tried to shrug his shield off.

And then suddenly, the weight of the shield was lifted, and Virgil could relax a little bit. He turned to see his blond Chosen looking intently at the thing, his eyebrows drawn slightly together.

"Hey, V, how useful -is- this thing?"

"Huh?" Inwardly, the dark-eyed male groaned. He really needed to start working on his vocabulary, like, maybe using words with more than one syllable. It would help if Richie got some clothes on, true, but... At the same time, Virgil wouldn't mind seeing the other male without the towel.

"I mean, it's heavy and bulky." Richie shrugged, placing it against the wall, close to the door, before he returned and helped a still dumbstruck Virgil out of his gloves and coat. He hefted the coat, testing its weight as well, before muttering about weight and Kevlar and putting the items away.

"Well," began Virgil, rolling his head around on his shoulders, trying to work out some kinks. "When I'm in Dakota, I use it to fly. Electromagnetic currents, ya know. And it's also handy to have in case of an attack. It's solid metal, so it'll deflect blows and Hotstreak's fireballs, and water sprays. Granted, I still gotta dodge Puff, and even though Hotstreak's fireballs don't hit me they still melt my shoes, and I have to keep the thing under my feet, but... yeah, it comes in handy."

Richie nodded his head, a far away look in his eyes. But something snapped him back to the present, and he turned his gaze to look Virgil over. Whatever he saw had him shaking his head and indicating for Virgil to follow. "C'mon."

"What?" the electric teen asked. He followed the blond into the dining area where Richie turned one of the chairs around, so that its back was towards the table. He tilted his head, glanced at his Chosen, and then turned to sit down.

"No, sit backwards," Richie said. "And take off the shirt. And the mask."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm going to give you a shoulder rub. You obviously need it." Richie grinned. "Remember, I'm your Chosen. Here to offer you comfort. So, clothes, off!"

Virgil opened his mouth... and then shut it promptly. Looking sideways at the blond, he stripped out of his shirt and mask, and then sat backwards on the chair. He crossed his arms on top of the chair, and rested his chin on his hands. Much of his tension eased as Richie's warm hands rested on his shoulders. The dark-skinned male licked his lips and closed his eyes as surprisingly strong hands began to knead the aching muscles of his shoulders.

There were no words spoken as Richie worked, and the blond put a good amount of pressure into it, working the knots out. His hands dipped down to the small of Virgil's back, working those muscles as well. Richie applied no pressure to the Defender's spine, but the dark skinned hero doubted there was any area on his back and shoulders left untouched.

Gradually, Virgil's breathing evened out into slow, deep breaths. His head fell forward, allowing several of his dreads to fall in his face. He knew that he was probably enjoying this a bit too much, as his body was in a lazy state of arousal. When Richie's thumbs began small, firm circular motions on his neck, Virgil shivered. He licked his lips as the slow, firm pressure eased away more tension than he realized he'd had. And then those hands were in his hair, giving him a scalp massage.

Virgil Hawkins, self-appointed Defender of Dakota, the superhero known as Static Shock, was reduced to pudding. Jiggly, warm, homemade chocolate pudding. And if Richie continued for much longer...

Richie then tilted his head back and began to rub his temples. As relaxed as he was, Virgil was more than willing to do whatever Richie told him to do. He leaned back against his Chosen, his back seeming to automatically melt against the blond's front. Slowly, sleepily, Virgil opened his eyes to stare up at the blue ones looking down at him. Richie's fingers slowed their circular motion, finally coming to a halt, as their eyes remained locked.

They remained like that, Virgil leaning back against Richie, staring upward, and Richie staring down with his hands sliding down to Virgil's shoulders again.

Richie felt his entire body flush with heat and knew that if he didn't step back and away from Virgil -right- then, the towel around his waist was going to offer very little coverage of a very natural reaction. With a blush, he pushed Virgil forward as he stepped back. Thinking quickly, he tried to make a quick escape. "So, are you hungry? What would you like?"

'_You naked on my bed would be nice,_' Virgil thought to himself as he got to his feet. He knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon, though. He stepped around the chair and stretched, listening to the sound of several of his joints popping. "What do we have?"

"Hmm... How about..." Richie trailed off as he went to the kitchen.

Virgil shivered and looked to his bedroom. "How about you cook dinner while I take a shower?"

"Hmm? Okay," replied Richie, his back still to Virgil. "And when you're done, can you put your dirty clothes in the pile in the bedroom?"

"Huh? Sure," the Defender nodded, only partially paying attention. He walked to the bedroom, a bit stiff in more places than one, and was grateful that Richie -wasn't- paying him any attention.

Once inside the bathroom, Virgil locked the door, stripped out of his clothes and turned on a small bathroom radio. Richie was awake, so there was no worry about noise, just concealment. And he -really- needed a reprieve. He was a Defender, not a monk.

When he was finished, drained to the bone, he leaned against the wall, and let the water pelt him. He usually took his showers in the morning, to help him wake up, but sometimes he needed an extra shower when he got in from patrols. Sometimes, even though he needed the shower, he went without it, too tired to bother. But tonight...

With a sigh, Virgil turned off the water. He rubbed himself down, trying to get most of the water off, and then put on a pair of clean underwear and a pair of sweatpants. He took his dirty clothes to the bedroom and dumped them on the pile already formed there. Dark eyes caught an unfamiliar garment, and Virgil bent down to pick it up.

Coveralls.

The same kind of coveralls that mechanics wore back in the garages in Dakota. Virgil frowned at the garment a moment, and then it clicked. It was Richie's. Batman must have given him some clothes. There was an irrational spike of jealousy that Virgil forcibly pushed aside. Logically, he understood why the Night Terror had given his Chosen some clothes.

If Richie was to work in the Lab, welding, designing, and whatever else Richie wanted to do, it was better the blond had some protective clothing on and not just the Chosen sarong. Welding involved fire, flying sparks, and flying metal. Even soldering wasn't exactly something one should do in the buff.

Still, the jealous part of him said that Batman had no business giving Richie presents, even if it was for practical reasons.

Virgil had been stunned speechless when Batman asked him if he'd mind Richie working in the Lab. This was Batman, after all, and Batman didn't ask for just -anyone's- help. How Richie caught his eye... As was Batman's way, the Night Terror waited for him to gather his wits. He'd been somewhat hesitant at first, because, well, even though Batman was highly respected, and one of the Highest of the High in the grand scheme of things, the man had a reputation.

A reputation that Virgil was all too well aware of, especially now.

In the end, Virgil had asked for time to think about it. He really just wanted to ask Richie what he wanted to do. Most people were intimidated by the Night Terror, and he didn't think that his Chosen would be any different. If Batman's appearance had been a shock, Richie's reaction was a total mystery. Blue eyes widened, and the most brightest, most amazing smile Virgil had ever seen lit up the blond's face.

The next day, Richie was working for Batman. As in, Richie was working in the Lab, sometimes with Batman, sometimes alone. And the blond Chosen loved it.

With a sigh, Virgil dropped the coveralls and walked into the living area again. Richie was already setting the table, humming to himself. Watching him, Virgil let his jealousy dissolve completely. As long as Richie was happy...


	6. Change

_Author: Summer Starr  
__Disclaimer: I came, I saw, I wrote fanfiction for. No profit is being made, so don't sue. My credit card is already suffering under a heavy strain.  
__Warnings: **Slash** (Virgil/Richie, GL/Flash, Sups/Bats, a lot of others), **Alternate Universe**, **Crossover** __  
Author's Note: Hello. Please keep arms and legs inside the ride at all times. Please, do feed the writer. And note that all flames will be going to starving pyros. The Flash was done by my beta, and by GL of course.  
__Ratings: M  
__Title: Like A Dream_

**Like A Dream  
**_Chapter Six_

Another day, another patrol, and another day of crime fighting that ended up with sore muscles, media attention, and another documented Bang Baby. He hoped that Richie would be home and had to reign in the urge to salivate at the idea of another backrub. He had a suspicion that if he had any luck, though, it was bad. His mind working at half power as he walked to his room, he started placing bets on how likely his Chosen was to be there, waiting for him.

For the past week, whenever he came home, Richie wasn't there. And sometimes the blond had to be tracked down before he was willing to come home. Granted, it was easy for Virgil to track him; Richie was constantly in The Lab. On the days that Richie did come home on his own, he always, always went straight to the bathroom to shower. He dripped with sweat, his eyes holding a faraway look in them and wearing a slight smirk.

To add insult to injury, Batman was not only keeping Static's Chosen busy during the day, and sometimes night, and not only was he giving Richie gifts, though even Virgil could see that they weren't so much gifts as necessities, but the Night Terror was also -paying- Richie.

Virgil was still lost in thought when he arrived to his place. It seemed that Richie had stayed late again. The Defender would have loved to say that he had been prepared for it, that he wasn't upset by it, but he knew better. The tightening in his chest was evidence enough. Tiredly, he put his shield up, feeling a sense of fatigue that had nothing to do with the physical world, and then threw his coat on the back of a nearby chair. As the cloth fell, the door opened. Virgil turned sharply to see who the intruder was. Only, it wasn't an intruder.

Richie grinned as he walked into the room. "Hey, V!"

Much of Virgil's tiredness drained away, and he was even able to grin as he answered back, "Hey, Richie, what's up?"

"You got a minute?" The blond practically danced in place.

"Sure, whatcha need?" the Defender asked as he followed his Chosen out the door.

"I have a surprise," Richie smiled. "Now, it's untested, but I think it'll work, and... Well, you'll see."

"A surprise, huh?"

Together, they made their way to The Lab, chatting about what Virgil had done and seen in Dakota; most of it was information about the people they knew rather than the Bang Baby that he had fought. Occasionally, other Defenders, or other Chosen, who waved hello and shouted greetings, interrupted their talk.

Far faster than seemed possible, Virgil and Richie were walking through the doors that led into Batman's private working area. Or rather, Batman's and Richie's private working area. The young Defender looked around, noticing that it was as... eclectic as usual, but that it was also eerily quiet.

"Batman's not here right now," Richie explained, as if he were answering one of Virgil's unasked questions.

"Oh," Virgil nodded. The door closed behind them with a soft hiss and caused the darker-skinned male to jump. Richie, though, was already moving to what had been unofficially designated his area of the lab.

"Okay, so, I know how heavy your shield is, and that it only gives you moderate protection, so..." Richie smiled as he grabbed something from his desk and presented it to his Defender. It was a triangle in a dull silver color. There appeared nothing special about it, but Virgil knew that if it was produced in Batman's lair, then there had to be -something- special about it. "I've been working on something that's a lot lighter and more flexible."

And then, with a flip of his wrist, Richie caused the triangle to fan out into a smooth circle. With a quick demonstration, the blond showed how flexible the material was by bending it back and forth, but the material always returned to its normal, flattened state. With another flick of his wrist, Richie refolded the metal and tossed it to Virgil.

"It shouldn't take nearly as much effort to fly that as it would something heavier. Plus, it doesn't conduct heat, or at least, not to the point that it would melt your shoes."

Virgil looked down at his new shield and ran a slight jolt of electromagnetic energy through it, causing it to flare out. Cautiously, he stepped up onto it. "You built this?"

"Yeah. I... I thought it'd be easier for you to carry around, not get in the way so much," Richie nodded. His muscles tightened with apprehension, hoping that his little invention would work. He knew the numbers for it were right, but he hadn't really field-tested it.

Virgil looked down at his feet as he commanded the disk to rise a few inches off the floor. With his head still lowered, he looked up through his eyelashes at the blond. Richie had been thinking of -him- while he had been working. The knowledge made a previously unknown knot of tension dissolve even further. Without asking, Virgil knelt down on the disk and proceeded to fly random patterns over the room. It was easiest to fly along bulkheads and metal sheeting, which meant that if he wanted to, Static could fly upside down.

When he was done putting the contraption through its paces, he glided back to his starting point. Richie stood in front of him, grinning fit to crack his face, a smile that only the Cheshire cat could really pull off. "So, what do you think?"

"Nice," Virgil replied as he stood up. The disk continued to hover a few inches off the ground.

"I'm glad you like it. Honestly, I wasn't sure if you would," Richie continued to smile. In a rush, he added, "I wasn't completely sure of anything really because, ya know, the numbers added up but without you here to field-test it, I wouldn't be sure how effective it would be."

"The numbers?"

"Yeah, you know, how much energy you usually expend, how much you probably got stored up, how long you usually patrol, weather conditions, health, how much you weigh..."

"So... If you used just my weight, can it hold more? Like, can this thing hold two people?"

"Theoretically, it can." The blond slowly nodded, some of his smile slipping away.

Virgil grinned. He held out his hand and quirked an eyebrow. "Well, let's test it."

Richie hesitated for a moment. Only a moment though, and then he was grabbing hold of Virgil's outstretched hand. The disk tipped slightly as he climbed up, but otherwise remained off the ground. He turned so that his back was to Virgil's front, and strong, bare arms were around his waist. Virgil shifted behind him, pulling him impossibly closer, so that the Dakota Defender could rest his chin on Richie's shoulder. The Chosen did his best to suppress a shiver as warm air ghosted across his ear.

Virgil's smile went unnoticed by the other male. He tightened his arms, wishing that Richie had taken the time to get out of his coveralls before this little experiment. However, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Using his powers, he lifted them both further off the ground. He could feel his Chosen's body tense as they moved further upward, but he kept hold on the blond. When they were almost to the ceiling, Virgil stopped his ascent. And they just stayed there, unmoving for a few moments.

During those precious, quiet moments, Richie began to relax in his arms. The blond didn't quite lean back against him, but there was noticeably less tension. Grinning, Virgil tilted his head and whispered, "How long, do you think, should we stay up here to test this?"

"Uh..." Richie's mind was a total blank. From his vantage point, he was able to see his workstation. He could see all of his various projects in their various states of completion. Only this glider and his new computer, a little toy that was the mother of all processors, were completely finished. The others... were less so. But he didn't want to think about those. Thinking was not something he wanted to be doing right then. He would much, much, much prefer just standing there, with Virgil's arms around him and the world seemingly miles away. "Just... a little while longer. Yeah?"

"Okay." Virgil nodded, moving so that he could bury his head in the curve of Richie's shoulder. "Normally, I'm not standing on my shield with anyone. Normally, as soon as I get them out of danger, I drop them off and head back to the fight."

"Yeah?" Richie asked, only half paying attention. The cool temperature of the room had nothing to do with the prickling of his skin.

"Yeah," the darker teen murmured, using his lips to caress a patch of skin on Richie's neck. He could feel Richie beginning to tremble in his arms, and for a moment, he wondered if perhaps he frightened the blond. But then, his Chosen turned slightly, looking over his shoulder. There was a spark of... something in those blue eyes. Something...

They held their gaze, as if mesmerized. For a moment, both of them forgot the rest of the world, forgot the fact that it was Virgil's power keeping them afloat, forgot that they were not in a private chamber.

"Richard." That one word cut through the spell, though the voice speaking was as quiet and as calm as Death itself. Both teens looked to the ground.

"Hey, Batman," Richie called out. Even from where he was, he could see Batman's eyes narrow at the hoarseness in his voice. Behind him, he could feel tension return to Virgil, and the arms around his waist tightened momentarily. He didn't blame his Defender. The Night Terror gave him the creeps, too. "You're back."

"I need you to look over some plans for me."

Richie nodded his head. "Of course."

Virgil sighed as he lowered them both down to the ground. "I guess you'll be here for a while, huh?"

"Looks like it." Richie nodded as he hopped off the disk. "But... I should be home in time for dinner. Do you want to meet in the food hall?"

"Sounds good. Nine?"

"I'll be there." The blond grinned before moving off towards the main computer, where Batman was waiting.

Virgil forced himself not to grind his teeth as he noticed Batman reach out and place his gloved hand on the small of Richie's back, guiding him towards the console. The Night Terror's cape slid forward to hide the gesture but not soon enough. Virgil spun around and stalked out of The Lab before he caused a scene. Batman was a more established Defender—in fact, he was one of the founding members—and intimidating as all hell when he wanted to be, which, Virgil suspected, Batman preferred to be intimidating at all times. And then there was Richie... Virgil didn't want to cause a... problem if there wasn't a need for his reaction. It was just... he seemed so happy to get back to work! Energy crackled around him as he moved, all of his earlier exhaustion fading into a dim memory. He thought about going to his room, but... there was no appeal there.

Thinking about it, he really had no idea where to go. He didn't want to be by himself, though, that was for sure. And he needed information. Reliable information. Or, if not reliable, then at least from a source he trusted.

The interesting thing about The Fortress was that once a person knew it, they knew it. There was very little chance of getting lost, no matter from where a person started. There were only so many ways of getting from Point A to Point B. He might not have been The Flash, but Virgil managed to get to the man's abode in a very short amount of time.

Outside, it was a room like any other room along the hallway. Virgil hadn't seen anyone around for a while, but that was to be expected. The Flash had a room in the more adult side of the station, where he could be among the more mature, grown-up Defenders. Not that the man acted like his neighbors, but Virgil had heard some of the others whisper that being among them could only help. The Dakota Defender snorted to himself as he raised his hand to ask for admittance. The Flash was the fastest man alive, but the more his thoughts threatened to change him, the more he remained the fun-loving person he was.

Virgil rather admired him for that.

The twin panels of Flash's doors slid open, and the dark-skinned hero stepped through. And then was struck speechless. Just last week, he had stopped by, and the décor had been completely different. Whereas before there had been posters of cherry red sports cars, motorcycles, pimped out Cadillac's, and otherwise tricked out cars, now there were posters of candies, suckers, jellybeans, and... just weird things on the wall. Granted, the red velvet couch was the same as it always was, and the fake fur rug in front of it still remained. Virgil shook his head as he caught sight of Green Lantern, sitting down in one of the overstuffed chairs, reading a book.

The first thing that Virgil noticed was that Green Lantern was out of uniform. His black and green superhero garb was replaced with faded jeans that looked as old as time itself and a black sweater. Looking up from his book, he nodded. "Hey, Static."

"Hey, GL," Virgil grinned, trying to relax. He looked around the room one more time, trying to spot some kind of sign that Flash was home. When he couldn't hear any music, or any noise for that matter, he knew that the man in red was out. "Um... I don't suppose you know where I could find Flash, huh?"

"He had to go down to Central City for something," the former Marine shrugged. "Take a seat. It shouldn't take too long."

"Cool, thanks." In the time he had spent at The Fortress, he knew that GL and Flash were tight, and he had often come by and found one hanging out in the other's room. Granted, this was the first time he had come by the Flash's place and had seen only Green Lantern there, but... at least -someone- was there. And he could wait. Like GL said, it shouldn't take too long; The Flash -was- the fastest man alive. Everywhere was just five minutes away. "So, wow... he did some redecorating. Again."

"Yeah," the older Defender nodded. "I'm not so sure it's an improvement. Granted, the candy makes a lot more sense than the cars did, but..."

"And he took down his disco ball," Virgil said as he looked towards the ceiling.

The green-eyed male smirked. "Yes. But I'm sure you didn't come here to talk about his decorating skills. Mind letting me in on why you're visiting, or is it something that only he can know about?"

"Wow, straight to the point."

"Yeah, well, I deal with The Flash on a daily basis. He doesn't have what you might call a long attention span."

"...Yeah, I can see that," nodded Virgil. With a sigh he leaned back. "Hey, can you tell me some of the history of the Defenders? Like... What's the deal with the Chosen?"

"What do you mean?" the Traveler asked, closing his book and putting it to the side.

"Well, I know that Chosen are here to... provide a bit of... comfort?" Virgil struggled to answer the question while still retaining some of his pride. He knew that it was a common practice to give Chosen to other Defenders. Sometimes just for a night, other times permanently. But that wasn't what he was interested in. Richie was his. Period. "But..."

"Static." There was a deep sigh that Virgil remembered his pops used to make, as if to say: '_Why me?_' "The Chosen... Okay, first of all, some of us had secret identities before... but being a Defender is an around-the-clock job."

"I kind of noticed that," the younger male quipped, leaning forward.

"Yeah, especially those that guard cities." Green Lantern grinned for a moment, silent as he thought of something else. He shook himself as he returned to the topic at hand. "When Superman and Batman first created The Fortress, and first brought The Defenders together, there was concern about some of their loved ones back on Earth. You can't have a 'normal' life and be a Defender. But, that doesn't mean we didn't want a normal life. It was Superman's idea to bring the Defender's lovers and families up here."

"But those were families, not Chosen."

"Right. Later came the idea of Chosen, but they were originally just apprentices. Or at least they wanted to be apprentices. Sometimes, those would work out, sometimes, they wouldn't. Sometimes, they were utter disasters." The older male paused. Hesitantly, he asked quietly, "You remember that the current Robin wasn't the first or second, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Virgil remarked, his eyes falling to the gaudy rug. "It's a taboo topic, though. Do you know what happened?"

"I know it had something to do with the Joker, like most of his problems. But, Batman doesn't like talking about it." The larger male frowned for a moment, silent, and then continued on. "Anyway, no one was allowed to leave here after they'd spent any amount of time here. So, those 'Chosen' took on different roles. Some became a kind of servant or janitor. Others... Others became concubines and mistresses and... consorts."

"Uh-huh," Virgil nodded. "So... did they stay with their original Defenders, or did they change who they were working for?"

"Well, at that time, the Chosen were still quasi-free agents. If they wanted to work for another Defender, they could talk with their original employer and then move off with the second one."

Virgil bit his lower lip before asking, "Do those rules still apply?"

Green eyes blinked in confusion. "Well... not really. Most of the rules governing Chosen have changed. For instance, now some become Chosen and then become apprentices if their Defenders want them to, and if they think the Chosen can handle it."

"That's not what I meant." Virgil grimaced slightly at the tone of whining in his voice.

"What do you mean?" Green Lantern tilted his head to the side.

"Say someone became... oh, your Chosen. Only, they wanted to work for... Batman." Virgil waved his hand in front of him, trying to pantomime a thought he couldn't quite put into words just yet.

"I don't see that happening." Green Lantern shook his head. "But even if it did, it wouldn't."

"Huh?"

"Chosen aren't free agents any more." The former Marine gave a small shrug. "-We- chose them. -They're- Chosen. Not us."

"Oh. Okay," the Dakota Defender sighed. That made sense. Most of the Defenders in residence had already been chosen for a higher purpose than to warm someone's coffee or to warm someone's bed. They were heroes. They had been chosen to defend those that couldn't defend themselves. But still... "Has one Defender ever stolen someone else's Chosen?"

Green eyes regarded the younger male in utter silence for a few moments. "Static... Virgil, are you afraid someone is going to kidnap Richie from you?"

"No! It's not that!" Virgil shook his head, waving his hands in front of him. Yet, he wasn't quite able to meet his idol's eyes as he denied the assumption. "Not even close. It's just... well, has anyone?"

Green Lantern sighed as he tilted his head back, trying to remember. "There... have been a few cases where a Defender went missing in action or was killed, and their Chosen went on to live and serve others, only later it was found that the presumably dead Defenders were alive and healthy. Then came the trouble over to whom the Chosen really belonged."

"What happened?"

"Well, when disputes like that occur, there's a trial."

"It's happened more than once?" Virgil couldn't hide the shock from his voice. Just how many times could someone return from the grave?

"You'd be surprised," came the dry retort.

"Okay, wow." Virgil blinked as he leaned back in his seat. He tried to wrap his mind around the idea of someone being dead, all of his or her stuff being distributed, only to return. How would he feel? That... that was something he'd save for a later day, he decided. Forcing himself back on topic, he asked, "What are the trials like?"

"We usually have three judges, and it's up to the Defenders in question plus the Chosen. Usually the Chosen isn't very helpful, but... there is the fact that they -are- intelligent beings that we have to take into consideration, and who they're happiest with."

"Sounds... kinda cold."

"Honestly? I'd rather go through Armageddon, -again-, than have to sit in on another of those trials. It gets... vicious."

Virgil nodded his head. That was believable. Custody cases usually -were- down and dirty. He sat forward, putting his chin in his hand as he thought about the situation. And then he blurted out, "Hey, GL, why didn't you ever take a Chosen?"

Green Lantern opened his mouth, but, amazingly, no sound emerged. After a second attempt, followed by a cough, the former Marine was finally able to answer. "Chosen... I don't need one."

"But... what about... you know... wanting someone to be here when you get back from... going across the galaxy?"

If the older male was going to answer that question, the reply got lost in the sudden onrush of wind and energy that entered the room. The Flash zipped through his apartment in a blur of red, heading straight for the kitchen, with its stockpile of food.

"HeyStatic!" Virgil thought he heard the onrush call out, but he wasn't positive.

Green Lantern closed his eyes and shook his head as the air caused some of the order in the room to dissolve into utter chaos. When he opened his eyes, he caught Static's attention and grinned. "Like I said, I don't need a Chosen. I'm quite happy with the way things are."

Virgil could hearing a bit of banging around in the kitchen, mostly what sounded like Flash going through the fridge, piling up food. Finally, the speedster took the time to slow himself down enough to speak and be understandable, craning his neck a bit to look out to the living area at the younger male. "How's it goin'? Were you waiting for me? Not too long, though, huh? Hope GL didn't bore you. Because he can do that sometimes."

"Nah, man. I just had some questions, is all," Virgil smiled, settling back to visit for a while. "How was Central City?"

"Outrun the bad guy. Outwit the bad guy. Save the day. The usual." Flash dumped his armload of goodies onto the coffee table, a few items almost falling off to the floor.

"Boring, huh?" Green Lantern smirked.

Flash rolled his eyes and reached for a Twinkie. "C'mon, GL, you say that like it's a -bad- thing."

"It -is- a bad thing."

"Not all boring is bad." Stuffing the cream-filled treat into his mouth, he turned his attention back to Virgil. "So, what'd you wanna see me about? Were you in dire need of my pearls of wisdom?"

Green Lantern snorted.

"Actually, I was wondering something..." Grinning, Virgil leaned forward and poked at some of the snacks on the table. "How many Twinkies can you cram into your mouth at once?"

A smug look sprung onto Flash's face. "That is best question -ever-."

-oOo-

Richie propped his feet up on the console as he reviewed the data that Batman had brought him. While it was all very complex and technical, and sometimes redundant and boring, it was also fascinating to see such... artistry displayed in nothing but numbers.

Clunking up beside him on four mechanical legs, his experimental computer, which he nicknamed Backpack, seemed almost lifelike. Which was part of the reason Richie was so pleased with it. It was -supposed- to be lifelike. He had tried to program artificial intelligence into it, but... So far, the closest he could come to it was imprinting his own thought patterns onto the computer. Using a small device planted just behind his ear, he was able to mimic telepathy with the machine, and have it respond. So far, the experiment was a complete success.

Not that he was going to be telling anyone that for a while.

Currently, the machine was searching for two different things. Music videos, because they were usually fun to watch, and anything related to Dakota and what was going on there. For the second search, Backpack was also going through radio broadcasts and police frequencies.

As he went through the raw data from one of Batman's projects, Backpack began to beep. Lifting his eyes up, Richie silently asked what the problem was. Then, a small window appeared on the main screen.

It took a few moments, but what he was watching finally registered with the blond. The Chosen tilted his head to the side and asked rhetorically, "Why would someone want to make a music video of Hotstreak?"

Backpack had no answer to the question.

With a dismissive shrug, Richie told his mechanical companion to disregard the data and concentrate on more important things. Not that he questioned the sanity of Dakota residents—he used to be one so he knew that they were all crazy—but amateur music videos of Dakota criminals were not things in which he was particularly interested. To him, that was about as sane as becoming a serial killer's fan.

His attention refocused on his analysis. It took another alarm from Backpack for him to realize that it was almost time to meet Virgil for dinner. Absently, he nodded his head, patted the machine on its domed top, took off his earpiece, and went about leaving a few quick notes for Batman. He knew that not long after he left, the Night Terror would be returning. If he had any questions, the Defender would call him, but the blond doubted that Batman would bother. With the earpiece off, Backpack went to his recharge station, which was hidden among the many shadows of The Lab.

Richie knew that he had fallen into a routine of sorts. Wake up in the morning, clean up a bit, shower, eat, come to The Lab, tinker, get a signal that Virgil was home, go home, eat, hang out, go to sleep, and start over again. He was happy with it, true, but... He knew that there were more opportunities hidden somewhere. More opportunities to be helpful. More opportunities to make a difference. More opportunities to impress Virgil.

He just needed to figure out how.

He placed his notes about the data on Batman's console, with a double security of emailing the notes to an intranet account. With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure everything was in its place in his part of The Lab, Richie walked out of The Lab. He smiled the entire way to the food hall.

Time to meet up with Virgil.


	7. Business

_Author: Summer Starr  
__Disclaimer: I came, I saw, I wrote fanfiction for. No profit is being made, so don't sue.  
__Warnings: **Slash** (Virgil/Richie, GL/Flash, Sups/Bats, a lot of others), **Alternate Universe**, **Crossover** __  
Author's Note: This story -is- slash. I've posted warnings in every chapter and in the summary. The warning was there from the get-go. Your disappointment is your own fault. Since you don't like it, and have proven yourself capable of writing and your review shows you're motivated, I can only assume you prefer to be a slacker and settle for reading things you don't enjoy instead of writing things you would. I like slash. I like reading it and writing it and dreaming it. Regardless of psychosis, either yours or mine, I'd like to thank you for the review.  
__Ratings: M  
__Title: Like A Dream_

**Like A Dream  
**Chapter Seven

Hotstreak looked around, soaking up the moment. There was noise from a variety of places: the soft hum of computers, the music for the party, from a subway roaring past them through just a few walls, and the laughter and cheers from his friends.

His friends.

Shiv was on the table, trying to dance to the music he spliced for Hotstreak's montage. When he began trying—trying and failing—to break dance on the table, others began placing bets on how long it would take him to break his neck. Puff and Onyx were dancing as well, the female swirling around her large partner in mists that changed colors at random intervals like the lights of a Christmas tree. Kangor was doing the mixing for the drinks, and Talon was doing the mixing for the music.

This was his farewell party. After tonight, Hotstreak had no idea when he'd see any of them again. If he'd see any of them again. Sure, he was going to try to come back for Maria. But in life, there were very, very few guarantees.

It was almost time. There were just a few hours left. The bids were coming in, but he wasn't sure what the final price was going to be. In truth, he didn't care. He was going to be leaving.

He was leaving.

Getting out of the ghetto he lived in, getting out of the slum. He was going to be working for pay. He was going to be working for the big leaguers. More than that, though. He was going to be someone with power right off the bat.

Sure, he was up there in Ebon's chain of command, even though he -didn't- command any of the others. He was respected because he had proven himself able to handle their regular pest, Static Shock.

However, soon, Static wasn't going to be a problem. They had a plan, a good plan, to take the Defender down. Word was out, too, that soon, there was going to be a living battery on the auction block, one that didn't want to be there. No names were stated, of course, but 'rumor had it' that the living battery was none other than Static Shock himself. And while most Buyers flat out laughed at the idea that the Breed could take down a Defender, there were a few who answered by saying that -if- Static found himself on the Market, they'd be willing to handle such hot merchandise.

Francis thought it was a crying shame that the world thought so little of them. But, he wasn't so slow as to acknowledge the history the Market had with Defenders. The Night Terror alone scared most of them. Static wasn't Batman, though.

Static was just a lucky punk who got picked up by the Defenders. But his luck was about to run out.

It was a pity that he wasn't going to be there to see it.

But really, what was he going to do after they bagged and tagged the Defender? Smash and grab routines? Ebon wasn't into the Protection racket, and Hotstreak wasn't all that fond of it either. It seemed... so cheap. But, once the challenge was gone from Dakota, and the other Bang Babies were all bought up and shipped out, there really wasn't going to be anything left to do in the town except rule it. While it might have been fun to be king for a day, ruling a large city for a long period of time seemed... rather boring. He couldn't even play SIMS because that much dedication to ruling someone else's life when he had his own to live was utterly ridiculous to him.

They were all... so alive right then. So young and full of un-met potential. But soon... soon they were going to show the -world- what kind of potential they had. And after that? Then the bidding wars would -really- be interesting.

An unknown hand at his shoulder sent him sprawling to a nearby seat, but before he could protest, a wet figure was sprawled across his lap, one arm around his shoulder. Smirking, Hotstreak accepted a cup full of some strange juice that Kangor handed him. He didn't ask what was in it because he really didn't care. This was his party! He was allowed to indulge.

There was the soft hiss of sizzling, a noise that both Maria and Francis ignored. They were used to it, after having been together for so long after the Bang. She leaned her head against his shoulder, one arm draped behind his neck as he took a sip from his punch. She smiled as he tilted his head so that his cheek rested on what passed for her forehead.

"Man... Ya know what sucks about this?"

"Hmm?" she tried to murmur, but it came across as a soft gurgling sound, like a small stream of water over rocks.

"Now that I'm leaving, we're actually going to be capturing Static."

"And that's what has you so down?" Maria asked.

"Well, that and I'm going to miss you. And the others, of course." Hotstreak shrugged, hiding his flush of embarrassment by taking another drink.

"It's... going to be so different." Maria grinned, knowing her boy too well. He was finally beginning to realize that he was leaving. Going into parts unknown, with no one there that he could trust. She leaned up to look at the rest of the party. "Everything's changing. You're leaving. And soon, we're going to capture Static. This town is going to be so... different."

"Yeah," Hotstreak whispered, and there was a tone in his voice that she had never heard before. Something she couldn't classify. "You'll all rule this place."

"Yeah," she replied, but there was still doubt in her tone, as if she doubted that the dream was going to be as great as everyone thought it was going to be.

"Hey," the redhead chided. "Cheer up. You'll be one of the people in charge here, and I'll be making a name for myself. And after that, the future will be ours. With our power, my name, and your skills, we'll be unbeatable. You just wait."

For a moment, the aquatic female merely nodded. But then, she moved to stand up, pulling Hotstreak with her. Maria's smile was bright and painfully large as she dragged the pyronic youth to the middle of the floor. The liquid female caught Talon's eyes, and the two females shared a silent message. And then the room was filled with the softer beat, slower and more rhythmic. "Can I have this last dance, Francis?"

"Sure, Maria," Hotstreak nodded, pulling her close and beginning to sway.

None of them had been able to finish high school. None of them had ever gone to a prom. But this... this was a decent substitute. Puff blew a few clouds of incandescent vapor, even as Shiv moved over to dim the lights. At first, Hotstreak felt slightly foolish, but soon... soon he and Maria weren't the only ones on the floor.

Talon remained behind the DJ-station, but the others were moving to the floor as well. He wasn't sure who was dancing with whom, and honestly didn't care as he felt Maria lean against him, her wet cheek resting and sizzling against his shoulder.

Maria asked quietly, "Do you want us to tape Static's capture and send you a copy?"

Hotstreak smiled, partly out of pleasure and partly out of malice. "You know I do. I also want you to rip that stupid mask off his face. That'll be a sweet, sweet victory."

"Ya know, it's kinda funny," Carmen Dillo said as he swaggered off the dance floor, passing by them as he did so. His gait said that he had already had more than one cup of whatever it was Kangor was mixing. "It's the good guys that wear all the masks and disguises, but us... we're not afraid to show the world who we are."

Hotstreak was going to answer that, but the bestial meta-human promptly collapsed where he stood, one ear flopping over to hide his eyes. For a moment no one moved, everyone just stared at the fallen Breed member. But, just as quickly, they shrugged it off and went back to partying.

And then, at last, the countdown began. The music was turned to a low thrum of base, a tempo set by the ticking away of the seconds. Everyone who was still conscious and capable began the familiar chant, with commentary sprinkled through out.

"Ten!"

"My money is still on the Joker!" Shiv reminded everyone.

"Nine!"

"We -KNOW-!" Kangor shot back.

"Eight!"

Talon snickered. "We're gonna miss you, Hotstreak!"

"Seven!"

"NOT!" Everyone else intoned.

"Six!"

The usual laughter followed, a sound that was so free and wild it was almost painful to everyone involved.

"Five!"

"Gonna hafta remember us-"

"Four!"

"-when you make it big!" Maria smiled.

"Three!"

"You know I will." Hotstreak nodded, tightening his arm around her waist.

"Two!"

A bright flash blazed through the room as someone took his picture.

"One!"

Hotstreak smiled as confetti rained down on him. He flared his powers to ignite the small pieces of trash paper, enough to make them dance brightly, like fireflies, but the imitations lasted for only the briefest moments.

A few, mainly Puff and Onyx, began to sing, "Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne."

Carmen groaned as he tried to pick himself up off the floor and looked over at the two. "Happy New Year."

Hotstreak and Maria smiled at each other, though their eyes held different thoughts. It really was going to be a whole new year for them.

**-oOo-**

Martian Manhunter stood on the bridge of the Fortress, looking down from his station to the many people working other various consoles below him. Outside the view port, Earth spun in a lazy rotation and several space worthy carriers were waiting to dock. Batman was down in Gotham, tending to his own business, as was his preference. The Teen Titans were dirt-side as well, something about a carnival or fair; J'onn wasn't sure. Green Lantern had been called to another system to help deal with a trade alliance. Things were running smoothly, as they should, in a well-ordered fashion. It was a sign that they were doing their jobs correctly.

It was also incredibly dull.

"J'onn, can I have a moment of your time?" came an ever-cheerful voice from behind the Martian.

The shape-shifter turned where he stood and nodded, "Of course, Superman."

The dark-haired leader of the Defenders nodded and stepped back, indicating that J'onn should follow him. With a backward glance over his shoulder, making sure that things were in proper order and that there was someone else there should the need arise, the green male followed. They moved to a more secluded part of the bridge, cast in more shadows than was common, an area where Batman preferred to frequent.

"What seems to be the problem?" J'onn asked, his voice as eerily calm as ever.

"Well, I'm not sure. It could be nothing."

"And yet you seem... agitated."

Superman sighed, gathering his thoughts. He shifted where he stood as he tried to figure out a way of saying exactly what was concerning him without coming across as completely incompetent. Finally, he began to speak. "You know the rules governing Defenders and their Chosen."

"Yes, I am quite aware of them," J'onn replied, tilting his head to the side. He had it within his powers to simply go into Superman's mind and discover the true source of the man's concern, but he felt that would be too invasive. "I was there when the Defenders organized themselves."

"Right," Superman nodded, distracted. "So, you remember the rules governing what we do when we discover one Defender... making unwanted advances onto someone else's Chosen."

"Of course."

"Good. Because I've... heard that Batman has been spending an inappropriate amount of time with someone else's Chosen."

"You mean young Richard, Static's Chosen."

"Yes." Superman nodded, some of his anxiety leaving him. If J'onn knew about whom he was talking, then the conversation would not have to be limited to hidden names and innuendo.

"I know that Batman has asked for the boy to help him in his Lab, something about special projects."

"Yes, I'm sure that's what Batman -says- is going on."

"You do not believe him?"

Superman drew himself up to his full height and crossed his arms. "Let's just say that I have reasonable doubt to his honesty."

"And yet, are you not the one who promises that all are 'innocent until proven guilty'?" J'onn asked, his voice betraying none of his thoughts.

The last son of Krypton narrowed his eyes at the other alien.

"In any event," J'onn continued, as if raising Superman's ire was of no concern to him, "I have heard no one come forward with any complaints."

"But would they?" asked Superman. "Batman is not someone many people want to cross."

"Meaning, if there is anyone with a complaint, are they afraid of coming forward?" The green-skinned Martian's eyes glowed slightly. "I do my best to avoid spying on other people's minds. Humans tend to find it offensive and intrusive."

Superman looked at the other male. "All right. I can understand that."

J'onn was wise enough to not comment... Because nothing he said would be appropriate.

"I am just trying to avoid another Trial." Superman sighed, turning to look at the Earth spinning so docilely under them. "I'd rather sire a bastard child with Lex Luthor than sit on another tribunal."

"Even if a Trial was called, you would not be part of the tribunal," remarked J'onn.

"Oh?" Superman asked, one dark eyebrow lifting up.

"Others would perceive it as an unfair Trial," the Martian clarified, a slight grin on his face.

The Man of Steel opened his mouth to say something else when a red blur made its way over to them.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Flash asked as he came to an stop that seemed abrupt to the other two Defenders but that he had seen as merely prompt.

Superman turned his attention from J'onn to the speedster, remembering that his usual babysitter, Green Lantern, was out presently. "Is there something we can help you with, Flash?"

"Well, maybe." Flash shrugged his shoulders and waived a hand through the air, unable to remain standing still for too long, especially since he wasn't sure if either of the two were going to be willing to play. "Starting up a little poker game. You guys interested?"

"Who's playing?" Superman asked as he uncrossed his arms.

"Let's see... There's, uh... Cyborg and Green Arrow and Richie. Oh, and yours truly, of course. We -could- go with just the four of us, but five is always best. May as well just play -Bridge- with just four, you know?"

"Sorry, Flash. Count me out," Superman answered, shaking his head. He knew he didn't want to be a part of it as soon as he'd heard Richie's name, but as for reasoning behind it, he added, "Green Arrow cheats."

"Your loss." Flash shrugged. "J'onn?"

J'onn nodded his head, a slight smile appearing. "Yes, I believe I will join your game."

"Seriously? Neat-o. My place. Ten minutes. Gotta go!" And then he was gone.

After a moment of utter quiet between the two remaining Defenders, J'onn turned to Superman. "If you no longer need me?"

"Oh, of course. Go on and enjoy yourself," Superman replied absently, walking over to where J'onn had been standing when he had first come to talk to the Martian and dismissing the green male.

**-oOo-**

Most of the others were unconscious, either because of exhaustion or because of substances that no one really wanted to know about. There were still a few awake, though. Such as Talon, who was taking care of the DJ station, and Maria and Hotstreak who were still swaying on the dance floor, both of them with their eyes closed.

It had been a really great party, both before and after the countdown. They got to pretend, for a little while, that they were all that mattered in the world. That this 'death in the family' was something to celebrate. In a sense, it was like that. It was a funeral, a New Year's party, a birthday party, and a farewell party all rolled into one. Granted, there were no presents, no cards, nothing of that nature. No one really knew whether to be happy or sad. But it was fun.

They had parties like this every time it came time to go to Market. Whether it was someone they knew, one of them, or if it was someone they had to keep under lock and key because they didn't want to be there.

Maria didn't bother to remind Hotstreak that she was going to miss him, just like he didn't bother to remind her of his promise to return for her. Those things didn't need to be restated. They knew. They knew that they shared the promise of being reunited one day, no matter what happened.

Talon's soft gasp of surprise alerted the two to Ebon's arrival. They fell away from each other, but continued to hold hands, as they turned to face the shadowed man.

"Hey, Hotstreak. You ready?" Ebon asked as he stepped completely into the room.

"Just a little bit of packing left." The redhead shrugged. "I was waiting to know who and what to bring before I finished it up."

"Smart move." Ebon nodded. He then produced a small piece of paper. "Here's your walking papers."

"So, who won you?" Maria asked, curious and excited. Talon came up to look over both of their shoulders, her curiosity piqued as well.

"It seems... Twoface, from Gotham." Francis read the paper quickly. When he got to the end, he frowned, reading aloud, "And please tell him to dress appropriately. Big boys don't tuck their shirts into their underwear."

Talon snickered beside him while Maria merely covered her mouth with her free hand. The newest Dark Disciple merely glared at him before burning the paper in his hand. "All right, so, it seems that I've gotta go conservative. I can do that."

"Good." Ebon nodded. "Now, go get ready. I'm gonna be takin' you to see him before dawn."

"Got it, boss-man." Hotstreak grinned. He turned to Maria, and pulled their still entwined hands up. With a small smirk, he kissed what passed as her knuckles, causing steam to waft upwards, before releasing her completely and jogging towards his room.

Maria, Talon, and Ebon watched him leave in relative quiet before Talon moved off to finish picking up her things. With the feathered female's departure, Ebon turned to the liquid one beside him. "Hey, are you okay with him leaving?"

"Yeah." Maria nodded. "But... I'm going to miss him."

"I'm sure you will," Ebon agreed.

The clear figure grinned at him, and even though she was almost transparent, Ebon could see some lingering sadness to her features. "Don't worry, Ebon, I won't let it interfere with my duties."

"See that you don't." Ebon nodded curtly. "You're going to be a very important part in bringing down Static. I need you at your best, not pining away."

"I know. I'll miss him, Ebon, but no man is going to get between me and my job. Especially a man that isn't even there anymore," Maria replied. If she had been human, she might have blushed. She knew her part in the plan, just like she knew everyone else's, and just like they knew hers. She did have an important part in the plan, and it made her feel... special to be such an integral part. "Besides, it's not like me being okay with it really matters. He's following his dream."

Ebon nodded as he looked towards the direction in which Hotstreak had run off. No, there really wasn't a point in letting someone who wasn't there interfere with business.


	8. Weakness

_Author: Summer Starr  
__Disclaimer: I came, I saw, I wrote fanfiction for. No profit is being made, so don't sue.  
__Warnings: **Slash** (Virgil/Richie, GL/Flash, Sups/Bats, a lot of others), **Alternate Universe**, **Crossover** __  
Author's Note: More fun in the sun. Or not.  
__Ratings: M  
__Title: Like A Dream_

**Like A Dream  
**Chapter Eight

Blue eyes surveyed the passing wreckage.

Things were bad. Things were very bad.

Richie's mind didn't shut down, though he wanted it to, as the scene before him went from bad to worse with each new Defender who walked past him.

The day had started pleasantly enough. He had woken up with Virgil gone, again, and had gone down to the lab, checking on some of the diagnostics he had left going on the night before. He had plopped down in front of his computer screen, toggled the mouse to get rid of the dancing badger screen-saver, and went to work.

The alarm had come out of nowhere, signaling all of the Defenders who were able-bodied and without pressing tasks to join Superman. Richie hadn't been given any instructions on what to do on days when all of the Defenders were gone, but he figured that he should remain where he was, doing what he had been doing. After all, these were the Defenders. Earth-shattering events were supposed to be routine.

The blond looked down the hallway, where he sat in an alcove, out of the way. '_If this is routine, I don't want to know what its like on a bad day._' From what he had been able to gather, there was an attack on some island or military base or something. It didn't really matter to Richie -where- it happened, just that it had.

They had, of course, won. Good -always- won.

But the price...

Richie gulped as the Amazon passed by. Wonder Woman half-carried and half-dragged the barely-conscious Batman down to the Medical Center. His clothes hung in tatters around him, and there was the unmistakable smell of burnt rubber and flesh. Pale skin was matted with old scars, fresh wounds, and purple bruises. Just looking at the list of observable injuries made Richie wince.

Superman followed closely behind, in a state of even more undress than Batman, though his wounds were less noticeable.

Green Arrow was slung over SuperGirl's shoulder, his leg so obviously broken that it made Richie sick just to look at it.

The Defenders were returning home in groups of five, and most of them went straight to the Medical Center. Virgil had yet to arrive, and Richie wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It seemed that the more critically injured were returning first, and if Virgil wasn't among them, then maybe it was because he wasn't badly hurt.

Or maybe it was because he was dead.

A burned Beast Boy, turned into a small horse-like creature, carried a whimpering Robin down the hallway.

Hawk and Dove supported an unconscious Booster Gold, before going back to help others, their lips pressed firmly shut.

Richie didn't like to think about that option. It wasn't a pretty thought. He had already lost his friend once, and he wasn't so sure he'd be able to handle losing him again. The last time it had happened... well, there was a blank spot in Richie's memories, where he couldn't remember anything of the better part of half a year. He knew he had lived those six months, obviously, he just couldn't remember them.

The bespectacled youth squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of something, anything, to get rid of the images of this parade of pain he was witnessing. If he had had a choice, he'd have been in the Lab, or in his and Virgil's room, waiting. Other Chosen were in the food hall, preparing meals for those who couldn't sleep, or who just... needed to be with others instead of alone, whether they were Defender or Chosen. Some Chosen were working in the Medical Center, as every hand seemed to be needed. The rest were in their quarters, waiting for their Defender to return home.

Or not.

The blond continued to wait for Virgil to come by, but as the parade of wounded heroes continued past him, he wasn't so sure that seeing his friend would be a good thing. Some of the people that passed by him, he didn't recognize.

Or if he did, it was only because of their attire.

Aquaman and Black Canary supported each other as they limped and softly cursed down the hallway. The female used the more colorful language of the two, though Richie thought some of her vocabulary had to do with the shoulder wound she had.

Green Lantern carried Flash down the hallway, bridal style, as Flash repeatedly and loudly protested that he was fine, just had a twisted ankle. Either Green Lantern had turned deaf, or he was ignoring the speedster.

Of course, there wasn't a point in speculating about where he could have been, or would have been, since he had gotten a message from Batman, the same Batman who seemed to be out of it just moments ago, telling him that he needed to be on hand, close to the Medical Center. The Night Terror had specifically stated that as soon as he had received treatment, Richie would need to be there, to 'talk'.

Why was it that whenever anyone said they needed to 'talk' with him, Richie always felt heart drop to his stomach?

Surely Batman didn't want to talk about the Lab projects. The man looked half-dead when he was brought in. Then again, if there was one thing that Richie had learned during his times spent with the dark Defender, it was that Batman was one of the most stubborn and persistent people Richie had ever met, if not -the- most.

Where was Virgil?

Had something happened to him?

Surely someone would tell him if something had. Surely... Wouldn't they?

Cyborg, sans one arm and with sparks running up and down one leg, passed by, carrying Raven in his arm, her dark hair matted with blood.

Richie continued to wait, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist as Defender after Defender moved past him. He didn't want to see the number of injured heroes pass by him anymore. He didn't want to think about why Virgil hadn't come to find him. He didn't want to think about why Batman wanted to talk to him. He didn't want to think.

He didn't want to be there.

He seriously did not want to be there.

The sound of someone calling his name startled Richie out of his musings so forcibly that he jumped at the soft words. Looking up, he found himself staring at the gentle eyes of one of the older Chosen.

"Mr. Pennyworth," Richie answered shakily, standing up from where he'd been crouching. He had seen the balding male before, several times in fact. He was Batman's Chosen, the only one that remained with the Night Terror through the many years that he'd been a Defender. Some rumored that Alfred was with Batman even before then.

"Master Bruce is looking to see you, Richard," said Alfred, his voice still slightly accented with his native English charm. "He's been sedated to help him sleep, but he's very insistent. So please, come along."

"O-okay," agreed Richie hesitantly. He had no idea who this 'Master Bruce' was, nor how Alfred knew him, nor why the aging male was tending to him and not to the obviously-in-need Batman. But if someone wanted to see him, and he had time, there was no reason not to go. He looked around wondering if Virgil was going to show up, soon. "But... I'm waiting for word from Batman because he said I was going to be needed here for a reason, so if he calls, or if Vir—Static gets here, I'm going to have to leave."

"Understood." Alfred nodded, leading the way through the Medical Center.

Richie took one last look back down the corridor before walking into the Medical Center for the first time that night. Usually, the clinic was calm, its white walls and bland setting were just a normal extension of the rest of the Fortress. But on this day, the place was filled with the sounds and smells of pain. There was the metallic scent of blood, so present that Richie could practically taste it in his mouth. He wasn't sure how the more sensitive Defenders could tolerate it. There were also the sounds of whimpers and moans, and somewhere within the sea of bodies, someone was crying.

The blond could feel his skin prickle at the atmosphere of the place. It wasn't that the temperature was any different, though with the press of bodies in one place, it was a bit warmer than in the corridor. No, the atmosphere of the place was that of a war zone. The bespectacled youth opened his mouth to ask questions, because he always had questions, but found that his voice was refusing to emerge, preferring to hide rather than interrupt the agony around him.

The two Chosen passed by Flash as a stonily silent Green Lantern was cutting one leg of the other's red costume off of him while a doctor was mixing stuff for a cast. They passed Cyborg, sparks still dancing up and down his injured leg, who was standing next to another bed, the one that held Raven, even as Beast Boy and Robin shared a bed. Richie bit his lower lip as he followed the balding Englishman. Looking around, it was easy to see that they were either going to have to release some of the Defenders to recover in their quarters, or they were going to run out of beds.

"Master Bruce insists that he will find no peace until he speaks with you." Alfred stopped outside one specific door. "Please, keep the conversation brief. He needs to rest to recover."

"All-all right." Richie nodded. When the door to the private room opened, the blond was surprised to see Alfred turning away. "Aren't you coming in?"

"I am needed elsewhere," Alfred said, as he walked away.

Taking a deep breath, Richie walked into the darkened room. The door shut behind him quietly, leaving him alone with the unknown figure in the bed. As far as rooms went, the solitary recovery room was actually quite nice: a bed, a television, and a chair next to the bed. It had a large 'window', which was similar to the one in the food hall, this one showing a star field. The temperature of the room was cooler, though not cold.

Still holding onto that thread of courage he had gathered, Richie walked further into the room, trying to figure out who it was on the bed. He was almost sure he knew the profile of the person, the man, but he wasn't a hundred percent positive of whom it was until the reclining figure turned to look at him. Even though the blue eyes were glassed over with exhaustion, Richie knew whom he was.

Batman. Without his mask.

Innocent blue eyes flew open wide at this breach in etiquette. There was only one person that Richie was supposed to be able to see out of 'uniform', and that was Virgil.

"Richard," Bruce rasped, wincing at the pain even that one word caused.

"Ba-Bat-Batman," stuttered Richie. Walking forward on trembling legs, Riche knew this... This was... This was bad. This was very bad.

"I... need you," managed Batman finally, closing his eyes and willing the medication he had already ingested to give him just a few more moments of clarity. "I need you... to do something... for me."

-oOo-

Virgil nearly fell off the transport platform. He could feel hands pressed against him, helping to keep him standing, but the sensation was almost... distant.

He... was so tired.

Drained.

Dimly, he was aware of someone pulling his arm over a strong shoulder, and someone grabbing him around the waist. A soft, disembodied voice said, "I got him. You get one of the others."

And then they were off, walking down the hallway toward the Medical Center.

Walking. Always moving. Did they ever stop moving? It seemed he had been moving forever, that being a Defender was a lifetime ago and all this life consisted of was walking.

Dark eyes focused on the floor in front of him. He had to concentrate to manage to put one foot in front of the other, as the floor seemed to tilt crazily under him. His head hurt, but then everything hurt. Not the kind of hurt that involved being slammed into a building or anything, because he knew how that felt and that didn't feel like this. No, this was the kind of bone-crushing hurt that had more to do with being utterly exhausted. He hadn't been this tired in...

He hadn't ever been this tired.

He didn't think.

Then again, his mind wasn't all that clear, and what he could access of it wasn't much, and definitely not memories.

He heard doors opening somewhere, and somehow found himself in the Medical Center. Blinking confusedly, Static looked around. And that's when he realized that it had been Aqualad who'd helped him to the Center. Normally, they didn't do too well with each other, what with one being electric and the other being water, but it wasn't like either of them were in any kind of shape to do anyone but themselves harm. "Thanks, man."

"No problem." Aqualad sighed as he levered Static down to a spot on the floor next to the other teenage Defenders. The aquatic male wrinkled his nose at the smell of burnt fur, and turned to see Beast Boy whimpering on the bed, shivering as he waited for one of the medics to tend to him. Robin was behind him on the bed, one hand rubbing up and down Beast Boy's arm absently, trying to sooth him as best as he could even though the masked youth was in obvious pain.

Aquarian eyes turned to look back at the darker-skinned Defender sitting on the floor. Static appeared to be in shock, but Aqualad was almost certain it had more to do with exhaustion. But he wasn't a trained medic, so he wasn't going to take any chances. He took a few steps back, intent on going back to the Transporter, but he accidentally walked into one of the Chosen as he did so.

"Pardon me, sir," Alfred acknowledged as he slid past the merboy and towards Robin. "Hello, young sir."

"Hey, Alfred," Robin wheezed. "Could you tend to Beast Boy first? I think he's going into shock."

"As you like." Alfred nodded his head and walked around the bed to look over the green teenager.

Aqualad tuned out the Englishman's chatter. He turned and looked around and asked no one in particular, "Shouldn't someone get Static's boy? I mean, isn't it part of a Chosen's job to tend to their Defender?"

"I saw him going to visit with Bats a moment ago," Flash grunted as he maneuvered past them, frowning under his mask at the required use of crutches for his broken ankle. "He shouldn't be too long, though. With all the sedatives they're bound to have given him, Batman shouldn't be conscious for too much longer."

"You'd be... surprised... at how... long he... can last... drugged up," gasped Robin as he tried to move out of Alfred's way so that the older male could tend Beast Boy unimpeded.

"Not really," Green Lantern replied as he arrived, carrying bandages. The Defenders who were at least somewhat able had picked up the task of helping the others. Whatever it took to clear the room, to make beds available for the rest of them, they would do it. "The man defines willful."

"Why's Richie with him?" Static asked, his voice cracking with strain. He was trying to follow the conversation, he really was, but it was difficult. People were moving around, and the lights were hurting his eyes, not to mention the sick smell in the air was causing his already roiling stomach to toss around like a professional hackey sack.

"Lab Assignment, as far as I can understand," Alfred replied as he smoothed on a liberal amount of burn cream over Beast Boy's abused flesh.

"Hey, kid, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," offered Green Lantern as he knelt down in front of Static. He did a quick field check to make sure that nothing was broken and checked for a concussion.

John wasn't a stupid man. After his conversation with Virgil, he had started to think about the young man's situation. And he also got to thinking about where Richie spent most of his 'away' time, when Virgil was off being Static. It was very easy to understand Virgil's concerns. The young Defender had every right to be cautious when it came to Batman.

-Everyone- had the right to be cautious when it came to Batman.

At the same time, if nothing was really going on... It would cause an unwelcome stir, especially for Virgil and Richie if they accused Batman of something of which he was innocent. And yet, there was the question of why, exactly, had Batman called Richie in to talk with him before he fell under the spell of heavy sedatives.

"Well, kid, I can't find anything wrong that a bit of sleep won't cure," Green Lantern stated as he stood up, away from the exhausted youth.

"God, I could sleep for a month," whined Virgil.

The former marine turned to look around, trying to find someone to help Static back to his quarters when he noticed Richie departing from Batman's room. "Hey, Richie, over here!"

The blond jerked at the sound of his name but immediately ran over to them. When he saw Static on the ground, he didn't stop to say hello to any of the others. Instead, he knelt down beside his Defender and hugged him. Virgil was like a rag doll in his arms, slumping against him with all the grace of a bag of marshmallows.

Virgil sighed as he leaned heavily against Richie, enjoying the comfort it brought. He wanted to reach out and wrap his arms around his Chosen, but they were too heavy. It took an extreme amount of will power for the Dakota Defender to gather enough air to whisper, "Help me up."

"Are you okay?" Richie finally managed to ask, pulling just far enough away to look Virgil in the eyes.

"Yeah, 'm fine." Virgil tried to grin, but the result was a bare twitch of his lips. "Just drained."

"He's free to go," said Green Lantern. "And it'd be best if you got him out of here now. We need as much room to move as we can get."

The blond nodded, pressing his lips together. Slinging one of Virgil's arms over his shoulder, and wrapping the other arm around his waist, Richie managed to drag Virgil back onto his feet, unaware of how his hold mirrored that of Aqualad's.

Green Lantern watched the two leave, his green eyes narrowing as he turned to look back at Alfred. He was very tempted to ask the old man what Batman thought he was doing, but he held his tongue. Instead, he simply said, "I need to speak with Batman as soon as he's awake."

"I'll tell him, sir, though I doubt that I will be the one who's going to be there when he does regain consciousness," Alfred remarked, his hands never faltering as they continued to bind Beast Boy's wounds. "If you don't mind, could you see to young Robin's injuries? I think he's suffered a broken rib or two."

"Try four," Robin winced, "and a broken foot."

Flash peered over at the younger male from where he was leaning against the wall. "Ooh, that's bad. There was... Well, someone was trapped under a brick wall. Was that you?"

"That was -you-, Hotshot," GL corrected, shaking his head.

"Nuh-uh, GL, I was... Wait a minute." Flash paused for a moment, his head tilted one side and his eyes squinted as he looked up to the ceiling gods for the answers. "I was... Was that me? No, that wasn't—wait. Maybe. Was that me?"

Robin's face scrunched up into a familiar, questioning scowl. "What are you -on-?"

"I have -no- idea," grinned Flash lazily as he pushed off the wall, where he had been leaning. "But yours looks -way- worse than mine. Mine's like a... sprain or... sprain. Let me go get that doctor with that cast stuff."

"-You- are going home and going to bed," Green Lantern informed the speedster. "You're barely even wearing pants, and I don't want you to be here when your exhaustion—or your medication, for that matter—catches up with you."

"But, GL—"

"Go. Now." The words were simple enough, but they held no room for argument. They stood there and glared at each other for a moment before, Flash hobbled towards the door, muttering to himself. When he was sure that Flash was obeying, John went in search of one of the doctors.

Robin watched them both leave, before he turned to Alfred. "How is he?"

"Hurt," Alfred replied, and there was a tiredness that Robin couldn't recall ever hearing in the old man's voice before.

"How badly?"

"He'll survive." It went without saying that Alfred would prefer to be closer to the usually stoic Defender, as he had been countless times in the past. But with the rest of the Bat-family either away on other... business, or incapacitated, he knew he wasn't going to be able to be there to watch over his charge. "However, with as damaged as you and Nightwing are... I doubt that I will be able to provide him with any form of... comfort."

Robin nodded as best as he could, adjusting his position to try to lessen his pain. And then what Alfred was saying really hit him. "Oh. Oh, damn."

"Exactly," sighed Alfred. It was no secret among the many who wore the Bat-insignia that the man behind the cowl was plagued by nightmares. No one who had received as many scars could remain without them. The dreams were especially violent when he was wounded and unable to move. The Night Terror had been known to cause further harm to himself than his initial injuries, fighting and struggling against the invisible restraints that pinned him to the bed. To ease the strain of these, it was usually up to Alfred, or one of Batman's Chosen, to sit with him, to watch over him, while he slept. However, that only worked if he trusted his guardian. Having a stranger watch over him would only cause the injured Defender to panic and struggle all the harder. He had done that when the Chosen had been new.

"Is that why he brought in Richie?" Robin asked, curious. "I mean, I kinda figure—"

"No, that's not why," Alfred broke in, casting a sharp look at the youngest of his charges. "Richard was brought in for a Lab Assignment, nothing else. You'd best keep that in mind, young man."

"Okay," Robin replied, his voice soft. He swallowed, and realized how sharp and scratchy his throat felt. "So... how are you going to manage him and the rest of us?"

"I... I will think of something." Alfred smiled politely as Green Lantern returned, dragging one of the doctors with him with a cart full of casting materials. He didn't need to explain that he already had someone in mind for the task. There were very few secrets within the Bat-family of which Alfred wasn't aware, and this was one instance where the elder Chosen was going to take advantage of that. "I always do."

When Beast Boy was taken care of, and a professional was seeing to Robin, Alfred excused himself. He first searched through the wounded, looking for a specific individual. When the desired person seemed to not be among them, the Englishman then moved on to the uninjured. When he found the person for whom he was looking, the elder Chosen felt an almost giddy lightness settle over him, brushing away some of his dread and fear.

"Excuse me," Alfred said, bowing his head slightly.

"Yes?" Martian Manhunter looked up from the console where he had been going over the technical data from the battle. It was not unusual for some of the Chosen to approach him, asking if he knew where certain people were, so he did not think twice about being approached by one of their older ones.

"I am sorry to interrupt, but... I was wondering if you might be able to assist me." Alfred straightened up, and looked at the green male with as much dignity as was bred into him. He had to handle this just so; otherwise, Bruce would be extremely put-off by this turn of events. "Master Bruce, Batman, is... sleeping right now. I was wondering if you could watch over him while he sleeps."

Puzzled, yet intrigued, J'onn leaned away from the console. "An odd request. Why...?"

Alfred opened his mouth and then paused. How much could he give away? How much should he give away? Finally, he answered honestly, "Because he trusts you."

The tall alien blinked his monochromatic eyes, trying to work through that piece of information. It would be easy, oh-so-easy to slip inside the human's mind and find out exactly what he meant by that statement. A temptation. A sweet lure, but one that J'onn knew he would not take. There was a very good reason that Batman trusted him.

Be that as it may, Martian Manhunter thought that it would be more appropriate, more fitting if either Wonder Woman or Superman were watching over the Gotham Defender. After all, while he might claim to trust J'onn, Batman had been... intimate with the other two. Well, there were more than just those two, but still. "Would not Superman or—"

"No. They wont do." Alfred shook his head. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "Please."

J'onn opened his mouth, a denial almost within reach of stating. Instead, he closed his mouth and merely nodded his head in acceptance.

-oOo-

Virgil woke up to two things: a full bladder and the knowledge that just thinking about moving made his body ache. Still, he hadn't wet the bed since he was a toddler, and he wasn't about to get into the habit. With his entire body trembling from the sheer agony of it, Virgil managed to push himself up into a sitting position.

And then he managed to swing his legs to the side of the bed.

He stood up on shaking legs, and the world tilted before it almost faded out completely. But strength of will, and the fact that he had some pride, dammit, and didn't want to end up face first on the floor, gave him the edge and allowed him to put one foot in front of the other.

It seemed to take forever before he reached the bathroom. He fumbled for the drawstrings to his sleep pants, cursing as his fingers felt far too large for his hands. He couldn't remember ever feeling this... this... helpless? This much in pain? It was as if every muscle in his body had been scrubbed with a scouring pad, his head carved out like a jack o' lantern, and his eyes doused with salt. All those aches and pains aside, Virgil licked his dry lips and grimaced at the taste in his mouth.

As far as he was concerned, something large, poisonous, and furry had to have crawled inside his mouth at some point and died.

When he was done relieving himself, he shambled over to the sink. Blinking his eyes, he managed to look at himself in the mirror. Well, he didn't -look- as bad as he felt, at least. With a sigh, Virgil turned on the water and grabbed the soap: first, his hands and then his face. Finally, he brushed his teeth, hoping that he'd be able to get the taste of whatever road-kill, or Starfire's cooking, he'd accidentally ingested out of his mouth.

Done with that, Virgil staggered back out to his bed. Sure, he'd just completed a normal wake-up routine, but he was in no shape to be out of bed and he knew it. Walking back to the bed, he realized that Richie wasn't there.

He'd woken up alone.

If he'd had any energy any at all, he might have cared. As it was, he was too empty to bother trying.

Virgil slid back onto the bed and was unconscious before he had the chance to get back under the covers. The next time Virgil opened his eyes, he was still lying on his stomach, but the covers were up around his shoulders, and there was a warm body pressed against him. With a yawn, Virgil rolled onto his side, which caused Richie to stir.

"Hey," Richie sighed, his blue eyes blinking lazily.

"Hey y'rself," answered Virgil, his voice thick and slurred.

"How ya feelin'?"

"Like shit."

"Yeah, thought so," Richie grinned.

Dark eyebrows drew together as Virgil frowned. "Where were you earlier?"

"The Lab." The blond shrugged. He reached out and pushed one of Virgil's errant dreads back, out of the way so that he had an unobstructed view of his friend's face.

"Oh." Continuing to frown, the exhausted Defender blinked as he tried to gather his thoughts together. "Hey, Rich?"

"Yeah?"

Virgil paused, unsure of himself or how much he wanted to do this. No, that was a lie; he knew exactly how much he wanted to do this, and that amount was in negative numbers. It was just... he didn't want Richie to be there out of obligation or a sense of duty. He'd thought about it, while planet-side, fighting for the opportunity to just breathe, and knew that if Richie wanted to go, there really was no point in being selfish. It'd just make them both miserable. "Are you happy?"

"Huh?"

"Are you happy?" came the softly repeated question.

"Well, yeah, sure, I mean—"

"Because if you wanted to be someone else's Chosen, I... don't want you staying here. I'd rather you just go," Virgil interjected, his eyes closed as he concentrated on breathing. Funny, he hadn't thought that there was a single muscle in his body that didn't hurt before. Now, though, he knew otherwise. Now, he could feel his heart not only aching, but also cracking.

Richie stilled, his breathing quieting down to near silence. "Are you kicking me out?"

"Wouldn't you be happier with... someone else?"

"No." The denial was quick and harsh. Dark brown eyes opened to see Richie glaring at him, his lower lip sticking out slightly in an angry pout. "I don't want to leave. And you -aren't- going to kick me out."

Virgil grinned. "Okay. Just checking."

"Don't even kid about things like that, man," Richie warned him. "I'm not leaving you, and there's nothing you can do about it other than kicking me out of the Fortress. And -that- just isn't gonna happen."

"Well, I could lock you out." Virgil tried to lighten the dark mood he'd set. "Maybe get you lost in the corridors..."

"I'd pick every lock inside this place until I got back here," Richie snorted. "You aren't getting rid of me, so don't even think about it."

Even as tired as he was, Virgil couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped him. Without stopping to think about it, pushing the pain that racked his body out of the way, Virgil leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of Richie's mouth.

It was the first time he had kissed his Chosen, at least while the blond was awake.

Richie was surprised, but welcoming, turning slightly so that their lips could come into even more contact. When Virgil made to retreat, Richie leaned forward, keeping the connection between them. It was so slight, so fragile, so...

Exciting.

Virgil had ridden the magnetic currents with which the Earth pulsed, had flown with heroes who had saved worlds and destroyed solar systems, had tangled with his fair share of criminals, and had, upon a few occasions, saved his city. However, he couldn't remember feeling quite this high, this combination of powerful and powerless, during any of those times. The kiss... It was as if it was recharging his powers, but it wasn't enough.

They broke apart, both still lying down on the bed, their eyes sliding open. They were so close they seemed to be sharing the same breaths. Richie licked his lips, hoping to taste Virgil still there. When the pink tongue darted out, Virgil's mind decided to take a vacation strategically lower in his body, barking at his body along the way and telling it to ignore the pain and exhaustion. He could sleep when he was dead.

At some unseen signal, they both leaned forward again, eyes sliding shut. Richie pushed Virgil back, taking advantage of Virgil's weakened state. Gently, he placed one hand on the hero's shoulder, feeling the heat pulse up his arm. Careful not to frighten the other male, Richie parted his lips and slid his tongue across Virgil's lower lip. Almost eagerly, Virgil parted his lips. Richie took the opportunity to taste the darker male, reveling in the chance. The kiss deepened so fast Richie thought he was drowning.

Virgil moaned as he returned the playful duel. He raised one, shaking hand to pull at the back of Richie's neck, the other moving to snake around the blond's waist, because he didn't want this to end. He'd give up breathing if only this didn't end. But like all good things, it eventually did, leaving Virgil panting, burning, and weak. He didn't have enough strength to even open his eyes, to focused on regaining his breath. He could feel Richie lean up for a moment, could hear him panting as well, but then felt him lean back down, placing wet, open mouth kisses on his jaw, his neck, his throat, and oh, God, when did that become an erogenous zone?

Richie grinned as Virgil whimpered. Taking pity on the other male, Richie stopped his gentle teasing, knowing how exhausted he was. However, he wasn't about to stop touching Virgil. Instead, he continued to lay, half on and half off, of the Defender, pinning him to the bed. He could still feel Virgil's hands at his back and at the nape of his neck, so it wasn't as if Virgil was trying to get rid of him. Richie smiled as he nuzzled Virgil's neck. "Go to sleep, Virgil. You're going to need your strength."

If Virgil was going to retort, it got lost in the effort it took to regain his breath. He fell asleep with his head turned towards Richie's, breathing in his Chosen's scent.


	9. Show Time

_Disclaimer: I still don't own the characters, and I still don't have a job, so don't bother suing because you can't milk stone.  
__Warnings: **Slash** (Virgil/Richie, GL/Flash, others), **Alternate Universe**, **Cross Over** (same warnings for every chapter, people)  
__Author's Note:Combined three previously posted chapters into one monster chapter here, with edits. Thank you for noticing.  
__Ratings: M  
__Title: Like A Dream_

**Like A Dream  
**_Chapter Nine_

The cliché beginning to any horror story was that it began 'on a dark and stormy night', but as far as Talon was concerned, the horror story of her life began on a night like any other. But then, that really did depend upon what one was used to, didn't it? For some, gang violence was its own horror, but since she'd known it most of her life, she was used to it. There was a strange sense of comfort in that familiar, in that day-to-day fear.

Humans were adaptable creatures and the Breed even more so. Of course, they had to adapt to the changes in their lives, which never seemed to end. First came the change from human to something else. Something different. And then, if they were lucky, or unlucky as the case may be, they were able to get out of Dakota. Just like Hotstreak had done. With Hotstreak gone, there was a shift in the power dynamics, a shift in the living arrangements, a shift in the chores...

But even as things changed, things remained the same. Talon woke up every morning to the sight of feathers and talons, to the fact that if she let loose with the screams her nightmares begged from her, then there was the chance that the entire subway system would collapse around them. There was still the fact that few of them could go out in public without causing a scene. There were still rules governing who had to do what within the hierarchy of their little family.

There was still Dakota.

And there was still Static.

But he wasn't going to be there for long.

They'd heard on the news that the Defenders had gotten into a devastating tussle not too long ago. Two weeks. There had been the brief hope that Static had been taken care of, had been taken out in it. Unfortunately, two days later, one of their crew spotted him, flying high and grinning fit to split his face.

Well, here was hoping that they didn't split his skull as they captured him.

As Ebon said, a dead hero brought in very little revenue compared to the price of a living battery.

With a huff of annoyance, Talon found a good, out of the way perch.

Today was the day.

Today was the day that the Breed got the recognition it deserved.

Today was the day that they were going to take down the mighty Defender.

Today was a day of change.

It couldn't happen on a better day. The sky was clear now, after the rains of the early morning, and there wasn't even the hint of haze now. The noonday sun was high overhead, preventing it from getting in her way. And below, on street-level, the others were getting ready. She knew that down there, close to the alleyways one could almost taste the rotting of the city. Down where those who couldn't find shelter often slept, if they could sleep. Down where they passed the time, killing time until time killed them. She was just grateful that she had semi-fresh air at her perch. However, she didn't have time to truly appreciate the intricacies of her environment, as she had other concerns at the moment.

They had chosen an old gas station as their battlefield. There wasn't much in the way of scenery, which was good from a filmographer's point-of-view, but for just the people involved who were supposed to wait there until Static showed, it kind of sucked. Of course, the place was still as busted up as it had been since the Dakota Riots, but that was neither here nor there. The only important things were that it was out of the way and it gave the illusion of offering Static what he needed in a fight against them. It offered him the idea of resources.

A breeze came by, ruffling Talon's feathers. She was nervous, so nervous that she needed to use the bathroom. She knew she wasn't the only one, though. Shiv was practically dancing in place, unable to keep still in his hiding area. Onyx was repeatedly cracking his knuckles as he waited impatiently for the show to begin. Puff seemed unable to keep her solid form, floating around, making sure everything was just so.

And then came the crackle of the com-channel. It was time.

"Show time, people," Talon whispered, though she was the only one there to hear it.

The plan was, Puff was to go out and cause a little trouble, something big enough that Static would be forced to respond to. As soon as the Defender arrived, Carmen was to bound out as a distraction so that Puff could get free. Once she was far enough away, she would cause a little bit more of a disturbance, forcing Static to chose between stopping her and catching Carmen. Of course, knowing that this was the Defender's home turf, and he, like any other Defender, didn't like people messing up his home, it was easy to predict that Static would go after her. If he didn't, they had Onyx with them, who was more than able to capture Static's notice.

The three of them were supposed to herd the young electromagnetic hero towards them. If one of them were ever caught, Ebon was standing by to get them free. They were all hoping that it wasn't going to come to that, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. It was always best to have a back up plan.

Plans.

Everyone seemed to have them. Some people had more than one. And though she knew that right at that moment wasn't the best time to be thinking about such things, she really did wonder what, specifically, her plan was. Was she going to stay in Dakota the rest of her life, doing what she was doing at that moment? Could she really see herself there, in ten years, holding a video camera as she and someone else tracked down the last of the other Bang Babies? Or were Bang Babies a renewable resource? Was the air and water and ground so polluted with the toxin that they were never going to run out of Market material until they ran out of people?

As much as she loved Dakota, and hoped to stay there forever, she knew she had to become more practical. If nothing else, trying to capture Static alive had taught her that. She had to be practical if she wanted to live for any length of time, even more so if she wanted to live well. This family wasn't going to be around forever, and she was as afraid of being by herself as she was of the outside world.

So, that just begged the question, what was she going to do with herself? What were her ultimate goals?

"Stupid chica." She chided herself. "Your goal is to capture this moment on film. Everything else can wait."

**-o0o-**

Richie leaned over his latest piece, "collapsible coils in a can," though that was only the working title. He'd come up with something catchier later. Later, when he presented them to Virgil.

A smug smile spread across Richie's features as he thought about his Defender.

It had been two weeks since they started getting a bit more... intimate. Intimate was a good word. There was talking, which they'd already started doing way back when Richie first arrived, but there was more touching now. A lot more touching.

A LOT more touching.

And kissing.

Richie's grin spread enthusiastically as he thought about the amount of practice he had at that particular activity.

They hadn't managed anything more... rigorous than the kissing and the touching, but that was okay. For now.

The lab was uninhabited except for Richie, as Batman had yet to recover enough to make it to his work area. That did not mean that the Night Terror was slacking off on what he considered important duties. Instead, he delegated. For instance, Richie was on the lookout for strange communiqués from the Fortress to other parts of the globe, things that seemed out of the ordinary, things that might have to do with reporting weaknesses and liabilities.

Which were vague guidelines at best.

Still, Richie did his best. He had his mini-computer, which he had dubbed Backpack, 'listening out' for whatever transmissions came into or went out of the Fortress. There was also the police channel from Dakota rumbling on in the back ground, set at a higher volume than the low murmurs of the Fortress communications. If anyone came into the Lab, which was a slim chance to say the least, they'd hear only the dispatchers and police officers of the Dakota P.D, and not anything that could get him into trouble.

As the blond Chosen leaned forward, snapping another can closed, he had a sudden mental image of introducing Virgil to the new toys by throwing one at him, confining the darker male in a tight metallic embrace. But Richie dismissed the idea, because the coils were sure to make it impossible to do anything more than kiss the electric Defender, and really, if he had Virgil all tied up, he'd want to do more than just kiss.

A report on the Dakota channel caught the bespectacled youth momentarily, as another Meta-human incident was reported. Richie shook his head, knowing that Static was sure to answer the call. After that, his concentration went back to the tasks at hand.

**-o0o-**

Below Talon's hiding spot, hidden among the rubble and trash on the ground, Shiv waited for his opportunity. He had told her, almost dreamily, that morning, that he wished his hair were as long as hers. In his head, he could imagine rolling waist length hair up in a bun and positioning it with the poison tipped spikes, like he'd seen some of the girls do once in a while with chopsticks, and like he'd seen on a movie or three. Granted, there was poison at the tip of the sticks, but he figured it would still look kind of cool to do. She personally thought he was out of his mind.

Elsewhere in the city, Puff was causing mayhem, getting Static's attention. It took time for the three Breed members to finally drive Static into their little arena, but eventually, he was surrounded. The best part, though?

He didn't even know it.

On ground level, Shiv stayed as still as possible. He slowed his breathing, pretending to be one with the ground. He also did his best to ignore how cold and wet he was. Laying as he was, it was very difficult to ignore the fact that it had rained just that morning. Not to mention that Aquamaria was on this mission. The level of moisture was positively through the roof. He had one of the wooden spikes in his hand, though he was careful not to rub his finger over the poisonous tip of it. The others he hid on his body, making sure that he would not hurt himself in the inevitable fight.

Somewhere near-by, there came a loud roar, as if Onyx had been hurt. He hoped the big guy was okay, but knew that if he wasn't, things were still going to be all right. Puff would take care of the rocky male.

He wasn't sure, but he was betting that there was something going on between those two. Which was kind of gross if the thought about it for too long, which was something he really didn't want to do because… EW! A guy who was all rock below the belt and a girl who was made of mostly air. Talk about a genie in a bottle! No amount of rubbing was going to get her juices flowing. It required juices, ya know. There was also the fact that she was a bitch, but that went without saying. Though, if he was ever asked, he'd tell the truth.

But then…!

Then!

Static came into Shiv's line of sight, and the purple haired meta-human knew that it was almost time. His fist tightened on the spike in his hand, though not so tight as to pierce the skin. The electromagnetic Defender floated in the air, his head bobbing around as he looked for the other members of the Breed.

"All right, now. I know you guys are around here somewhere. Why don't you just come on out-"

"I'm sure you're expecting to give the regular speech about how we should just give up and come along quietly so no one gets hurt, but ya know what, Static? We've heard it a dozen times already, just today as you've been throwing bad pun after bad pun at us. It ain't gonna happen. And ya know what? We aint gonna give up." She grinned, as she settled comfortably on the ground, placing her balled up fists on her once-again formed hips. "In fact, I'm going to kick your sorry ass from here to Metropolis."

Shiv began climbing out of his hiding place, making sure to keep his form as concealed as possible. He held his breath, trying to stifle his gasps of pain and soreness from lying in wait for so long. The dark-skinned superhero was kept occupied by Puff's loud mouth and because he was looking around for his other attackers.

"Whatever." Static snorted. He hadn't expected his opponent to be so to-the-point. Truthfully, they rarely were. Static wasn't stupid, though, and they all knew that. He knew that there was still Carmen to deal with, and there was a high probability that there were others around. Something like a chill raced up his spine as he turned to look behind him, thinking that he'd spot Carmen. "Big talk from such small time thugs. I'm going to—"

"Put a shock to our system?" Shiv giggled. Instead of the expected beastial meta-human, what the Dakota Defender found was their ace.

"What the…" Static yelped as he felt a sharp jab of –something- bite to his thigh. It was almost enough to knock him off of his new disc.

"Jokes on you, man." Shiv smiled as he walked out of his hiding place.

Static growled as he tried to float higher in the air. He reached down to his leg where the wooden stick was protruding from, and knew that it went deep. Just barely brushing the grain sent jagged currents of pain through him. Angry at being hurt, he threw a careless bold of pure electricity towards the purple-haired meta-human. Strangely, the bolt missed.

Looking between his three visible attackers, Static became aware for the first time of the location and the situation in which he found himself.

"Damn, a trap," Virgil hissed to himself, realizing for the first time the pattern that had led him to be right there. All those little attacks had been herding him!

"Oh, wow, he really -is- a bright one," Puff snickered, using her powers to turn her lower half into a nimbus-like cloud and float towards him.

"Like a light bulb," Shiv nodded.

Lightning began to crackle in a tightly closed fist as Static fell into his fighting mode. However, before he could fire off the first blast, the world began to swim around him, heaving and twisting as if the natural laws of physics decided to break on their own. Instinctively, he moved closer to the ground. The closer he was to the ground, the less far he had to fall in case he –did- fall.

"Aw, does the lil' Defender feel sick? Does he want to lie down?" Shiv sneered.

With a low growl of annoyance, electric volts shot from the masked male's hand, blasting towards the general area where the purple haired Bang Baby was. Even as the bolt left Static's gloved hand, the world dimmed for a moment, and it was all the young Defender could do to remain conscious. Static gulped in air, desperate to not throw up in front of the enemy. Nothing said humiliation like losing one's lunch in the middle of a fight. "What..."

"What, what?" Shiv laughed.

"I think he wants to know what we're going to do to him once we've got the Big Bad Defender at our mercy." Puff crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Maybe he wants to know what you hit him with? Who knows? Who cares? When is he going to pass out already?"

Shiv giggled. Now that Static wasn't the one in control, they were, he found the situation to be hysterical. The funniest damn thing he had ever seen in fact.

"Shit…" Static gasped as he fell off of his disc, sending it skittering away.

Watching the guy who had followed and captured and fought all of them at one point or another crawling away was… thrilling. It was obvious to everyone that Static was in a great deal of pain, and the super hero wasn't using the leg with the stick protruding from it. But the further away he crawled, the more Shiv laughed.

Onyx, on the other hand, remained silent. He observed his brethren, and like the stone he seemed to now be made of he gave away none of his thoughts or emotions. Truth be told, after the paces they'd put the super hero through, it was amazing that Static hadn't lost his infamous temper and thrown a thunderbolt at them even before they'd managed to get him to the gas station. They had used all of their resources, skill, and wit to get to their destination with their prize in tow. It was one thing to heckle a performer. It was an entirely different thing to tease and tempt a guy who could power an entire city. That kind of power one doesn't want to piss off on a regular basis.

Even if they did do just that on a regular basis.

There was also the fact that Onyx preferred to think of himself as an honorable thief, if such a thing really existed. He had volunteered for this gig to keep Puff safe, and the others as well. If Static got too close to capturing one of them, he was to distract the supercharged male. It worked, too. Sometimes a little too well.

Maybe it was just as well that they were going to get rid of the troublesome Defender. Sure, the idea that there was an actual Defender who called Dakota home meant that more people were willing to move to their little urban jungle, usually the good kind of people who brought jobs and income and available markets to exploit, but Static could be more trouble than he was worth.

Especially when he lost his temper.

Fighting back an intense amount of nausea and pain, Static rolled to his side and staggered to his feet. He was somewhat surprised that he was being allowed the chance to stand up; after all, weren't they trying to take him down? However, standing up made him want to fall forward, and the way down looked to be a long, long, painful fall. Using the momentum of gravity and pride to put one foot painfully in front of the other, Static managed to limp a few feet away. Sounds seemed to bounce around in his head, twisting in a very 'Twilight Zone' kind of way, though it was with sounds rather than pictures. The world, on the other hand, seemed to warp with each step, as if he was looking at the area through funhouse mirror reflections.

His faltering steps splashed through one of the larger puddles, and suddenly, the world around him really did swim as a column of water surrounded him.

"Hey there, stranger," Aquamaria's voice bubbled in his ear as Virgil fought to get out of her liquid embrace. "You should watch your step. Never know whose toes you might step on."

Static struggled, desperate to not only get out of his water prison, but also to get a breath of air. With as drugged and as off-balance as the dark-skinned Defender was, it didn't take any time at all before he was limp and nearly lifeless. With careless disregard, Maria tossed the soaked body to the hard pavement and moved away. The rest of them looked at each other and then back at the unmoving figure.

"Is he dead?" Shiv asked, for once his smile was surprisingly gone.

"Check," Puff retorted.

"Why don't you?" Shiv asked angrily. He tried to stare the smaller female down, but knew that between the two of them, he was more likely to get his ass handed to him than the other way around. He might have been slightly crazy, but he wasn't stupid. It didn't pay to be stupid. Bending down cautiously, the purple-haired meta-human checked at the fallen hero's throat for a pulse. "Uh, he ain't breathing."

"Well, fix him!" Maria cried. She hadn't wanted to kill him, just make sure that he was helpless.

"He's not exactly a toaster, Maria." Shiv shot back. "I can't go get some tools and repair him. Maybe one of you…?"

"You're the only one here who breathes normally enough to give him CPR. I'd drown him again, Onyx could crush him accidentally, and Puff can melt metal if she isn't careful."

"Yeah, I know, but—"

"Do you know how to do CPR?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Then do it. We want him alive," Puff half-growled, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

Shiv wrinkled his nose as he rolled Static over, trying to get some of the liquid out of the other's lungs. When that didn't work, he knew it was going to take mouth-to-mouth. "Yeah, but... Dammit. I don't like kissing boys."

"If he dies, you can kiss me instead. It'll be a faster way to die than anything Ebon can come up with," Puff sighed, a small cloud of green air floating skyward.

Shiv glared at her a moment before turning back to his duty. He tilted Static's head back and bent forward, just to make sure that the other wasn't breathing and he really needed to do this. When he was sure that Static was indeed not breathing, he pinched the other's nose and covered darker, fuller lips with his own, all the while thinking, '_I'm glad Hotstreak isn't here to see this. I'd never live it down._' Then he forced air into still lungs until Static's chest moved. He did it once more, waiting for some sign of life. When there wasn't any sign of recovery, Shiv folded his hands and began the chest compressions, trying to jumpstart the Defender's heart again. "Yo, maybe we need jumper cables or something instead."

"Save your breath for saving his life," Aquamaria snapped.

Shiv bent down to repeat the mouth-to-mouth air breathing, his cheeks blushing furiously. He knew that Talon was somewhere nearby, catching this on tape. It took him three times giving mouth-to-mouth before Static decided to finally start breathing on his own. Still out of it, the dark-skinned superhero was turned to his side to cough up his lungful of liquid-female. Shiv scooted back and tilted his head to the side, a relieved grin plastered to his face.

And then, Static collapsed back to the ground, completely motionless.

Again, the three Meta-humans waited, looking at the still figure.

"He's breathing this time," Shiv noted.

There was another weighty pause before Puff began to smile. "We did it. We actually did it. We took down Static Shock."

Shiv began to giggle, high and breathy as the reality of the situation really hit him as well. They could do this. They could be someone! They had power!

Maria kept her eyes on the figure lying so still, so helpless, on the hard ground. Up close and personal, he looked... young. Younger than she had thought he should have looked. He looked like he was their age. He also looked like he'd been through hell, with his scorched clothes and bruises and scrapes, but that was okay. He was alive, and that was all that really mattered.

"And you did a beautiful job, too," came the quiet, calm voice from one of the nearby shadows. Swirling into view, Ebon walked towards them. "Now, grab him and let's go before the cops arrive and try to 'clean up' the scene."

"You got it boss." Onyx moved forward and gently, ever so gently, picked up the still figure. Now that the masked male wasn't throwing bolts of lightning, or magnetized metals at them, he seemed harmless, like any other punk kid that should know better than to mess with the big boys. However, just because Static appeared harmless didn't mean that the Defender really –was- harmless. If anything, living with the other members of the Breed had taught him –that- much.

Shiv watched as Puff and Aquamaria followed Onyx and Ebon to the alleyway. He turned to look up at where Talon was, but a glint of something shiny caught his eye. Nothing around them was clean enough to glisten, so something sparkly in the mess was more than enough to divert Shiv. The purple-haired male went immediately to investigate.

And what a find it was, too!

Pulling the flimsy disc from where it had landed amid the piles of trash laying around, Shiv giggled with girlish glee. Tucking the thin material against his chest, he scuttled into the dark, heading back home. Talon could find her own way back, and do it on her own time, too. He had a new toy to investigate!

**-o0o-**

Backpack beeped a slow, low tone, signaling that there was a new pirate satellite feed similar to one he'd picked up previously. Without waiting for any signal from its creator, the little machine instantly began to feed the images and sounds to one of the nearest monitors in the lab. The blond youth who sat hunched over a pair of flying skates, adjusting the thrusters after yet another test run, barely paid any attention. His mind was distinctly distracted.

Richie had never been much for worrying. After all, what was the point? Sure, Virgil had been late before, but not since they had started... And it was only a few hours late.

But none of the police reports had included any mention of Static for a while. A long while.

He hadn't even checked in after the last report of meta-human activity, which was uncommon. He usually sent at least a small signal saying that he was all right. There hadn't been a signal yet.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen," came a familiar voice, one that was as dark and smooth as oil, but made every hair on Richie's body stand on end. Jerking around, blue eyes immediately widened at the sight of Ebon, the biggest Bad Guy in Dakota of whom Richie knew. "Tonight, we have a very special package. This merchandise is so hot that it has got to go and has got to go fast."

To the Chosen's horror, the camera panned around to display a very beaten up, very unconscious Static Shock lying nigh lifeless in a tub of water.

"Backpack, record!" The little machine gave a soft beep even as Richie raced over to another terminal to find a way of tracing the signal. Half of the bespectacled youth's attention was on the keyboard and readouts in front of him, the other half was directed completely onto the screen where a small music video played, displaying his Defender's moves, tactics, and power. A small portion registered that the song choice was pretty decent, very current and upbeat, but for the most part, Richie was too busy to pay attention. Instead, he began to chant, "Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit..."

"Code name: Static Shock. This young meta-human is the youngest Defender to claim a city of residence. His powers are electromagnetic in nature; however, the full range of his power has yet to be recorded," Ebon elaborated, after the small music video ended. "Like I said, this is one hot piece of merchandise, and what you do with him is your own business. Use him as a trophy or use him as a battery, I don't care. But bids will close tonight. Make sure you've got the cash, or don't bother bidding on the goods."

He knew that panicking wasn't going to solve any more than worrying did, and that he was going to have to do something. He just didn't know what he -could- do. However, there was one person who would know what to do.

Unfortunately, Batman was still in the Medical Center.

That left him finding someone equally as trustworthy and adequately intelligent.

"Think, Richie, think!" the blond murmured as he spun around to look at all the raw gear surrounding him. Before the young Chosen came up with a name, the message closed up with Ebon returning and starting bidding. Eyes wide, Richie turned to his small machine and said, "Backpack, trace any and all signals that are replying to that ad by locating where the feed originated from and all the sources of information going to that site using all available resources. Find out where they're coming from and tag them. Also, find out who's responding and record all messages."

The small machine gave another soft beep.

Taking care of that angle, the blue-eyed male grabbed a small two-way radio mike, which was interconnected to the small machine, and ran out the door. Looking around at the nearly deserted hallway, it took only a heartbeat for the young Chosen to figure out where he was going.

Richie didn't pay any attention to the people he ran past or the odd looks he gathered as he sped down the hallways and corridors. He was running full tilt, and it still wasn't fast enough, nearly breaking his ankles tripping over stairs and his neck tripping over his own feet. Finally, though, he reached Green Lantern's room.

There was a good chance that the former marine was staying in his room, but if he wasn't, then he was bound to be staying with The Flash. Standing outside of the older man's room, Richie took a moment to calm his rapid pulse and labored breathing. Reaching over, he pushed the button to ring the alarm, praying that the green-eyed Defender wouldn't be too upset at the intrusion. Strangely, there was no buzzing sound indicating the ringer was turned on. Frowning, Richie tried again. Again, nothing.

"Shit," Richie cursed, absently noting that he had cursed more tonight than he had since he'd arrived at the Fortress. The door buzzers were -always- on, and no door was ever completely locked, but it seemed that someone had been messing with Green Lantern's door because it was locked without a buzzer. Something was going on, and it couldn't be good. Not after the events of the last fight. Not after seeing Virgil captured and unconscious.

Blue eyes looked around blindly, finding that no one was anywhere down the hallways. And that he was still wearing his coveralls, which meant he was also wearing some of his tools. It took less than a second for Richie to formulate a plan, and a heartbeat for him to implement it.

As many times as he'd thought about dismantling the door mechanisms, he never thought it would be to break into a Defender's home. However, that was exactly what he was doing. Getting the panel off the wall was a simple matter that took little effort and only a minute in time. Finding the proper wires took even less. The doors opened as quietly as ever, allowing Richie to walk in.

Walking in from a well-lit hallway to the almost pitch darkness of Green Lantern's apartment forced the errant Chosen to take a moment to allow his eyes to adjust. During that moment, Richie noticed two things. One, all the lights were out except for a soft glow coming from the Defender's room, and second, there was a low thrum of music being played.

Unsure of what was going on and afraid of finding his friend and Virgil's mentor either hurt or dead, Richie walked carefully towards the open doorway. He stayed close to the wall, trying to be as invisible as possible in case there was trouble and the attacker was still there. As he neared the open doorway, though, the young blond was grateful for his discretion for an entirely different reason. It took a moment for the scene to make sense to the young Chosen, but once it did, Richie had to bite his tongue to keep from making any kind of noises.

Lantern was definitely -not- being attacked.

However, there was a lot of moaning going on, even without there being any injuries.

The sheets were as tangled as the two bodies that were writhing on the bed. One pale hand was holding the back of the former marine's head, keeping the two figures locked in a deep kiss. As much as Lantern's partner wanted to keep the kiss, something that the heavier male was doing caused him to throw his head back with a sharp cry of what could only be called pleasure.

Blue eyes opened impossibly wide as Richie realized who the other figure was.

Doing his best not to make a sound, the blond chosen made his way back to the door. He didn't even breathe as he padded softly out of the apartment. Shell-shocked, he replaced the cover to the door, making sure it was once again locked and that if anyone were to check on it they wouldn't find any kind of tampering. And then he spared a few more moments to simply stand there and stare at the closed doors.

"Well, that was unexpected," muttering to himself, Richie shook his head and headed towards the Medical Center as fast as he'd run to Lantern's apartment. Since Green Lantern -and- Flash were unavailable, there was only one other person that Richie knew and trusted, and he was in the Medical Center.

Martian Manhunter had been staying in the Medical Center for the past two weeks when he wasn't on duty. Truthfully, he was staying by Batman's—Bruce Wayne's side. There were some whispers and rumors going around, but no one had asked any questions outright, and Richie doubted anyone would. Sure, he knew some of the rumors about Batman, and sure the man was creepy enough for most of them to be right, but the Martian was a different character all together. J'onn would never do anything...worth whispering about. Would he?

The blond did not bother to ask why it was that only Martian Manhunter was permitted to sit with the Night Terror when Superman and Wonder Woman were both willing, though he did know that it had something to do with the fact that the Martian frequently entered Batman's mind and that it was slowly changing both of them. However, the only Defender with whom Richie had to concern himself was Virgil.

On the other hand, the image of what he'd just seen with Flash and Green Lantern was hard to dismiss, and it filled a good portion of his imagination as he raced towards the Medical Center.

The trip took very little time, which could have been due to how fast the young Chosen was running or because his thoughts were far from the path he traveled. Before he crossed over the threshold to the infirmary, Richie slowed his pace. There was no reason to raise an alarm or to get thrown out before he had a chance to see Batman and Manhunter.

Swallowing the taste of his pulse fluttering in his mouth, Richie tried to regulate his breathing. He smiled at many of the nurses who were more interested in their patients than him and greeted the few Defenders who waved at him. For the most part, though, the fair-skinned male made his way quietly to Batman's room.

One door he passed had Beast Boy, who was still laid up with burns, playing a 'quiet' game of checkers with Aqualad.

Another room had Green Arrow snoring as he slept, his leg held up in traction.

Finally, Richie reached Batman's room. Looking around, the blond found himself somewhat anxious and reluctant to knock on the door. What if Static had gotten himself out of trouble already? Maybe he was on his way back? On the other hand, what if he didn't report this and Virgil wound up dead?

There really wasn't any question to where Richie's priorities were. Biting his lower lip, the bespectacled youth knocked on the door. There was a moment's pause before the doors slid open and a deep, familiar voice called out, "Come in."

Shaking slightly, Richie entered the room, feeling the light gust of wind as the doors closed behind him. Without waiting for a greeting or for fear to completely rob him of his senses, the young Chosen blurted out, "Virgil's been captured, and The Breed are auctioning him off on a knock-off Home Shopping Network!"

"What?" Bruce asked sharply and then winced in pain at the sudden move.

As silent as shadows, J'onn moved to assist the still injured Defender, propping him up. It seemed that the major battle of a few weeks ago had re-opened other injuries the Night Terror had collected.

"What do you mean Virgil's been captured?" the dark-haired male repeated harshly, seeming to almost ignore the help.

Taken aback by the cold demeanor that his quasi-employer had taken on, Richie began to babble, hoping that what he was saying was making sense. "I was monitoring all the channels in and out of the Fortress like you told me to do as I was working on some of my pet projects, but I while I did that, I was also listening to the Dakota P.D., trying to see what was going on in my home town. Nothing out of the ordinary, ya know, and after a while it was getting pretty tiring--"

"Get to the point," Bruce cut in, irritation in his voice.

"They've got Static."

Bruce and J'onn both blinked at the out of breath teen for a moment, and then looked at each other. J'onn was the first to ask, "Who?"

"The Breed."

"The who?"

"They're the local meta-human gang who trouble Dakota," Bruce clarified for his green companion. "How do you know they have him?"

"I intercepted a pirate satellite feed where they were auctioning him off."

"Do you have proof?"

"Yeah, I got Backpack to record it, while he searched for any replies to the feed," Richie nodded.

"Backpack?" asked J'onn.

"A pet project," shrugged Richie.

"To go along with all your other pet projects?" Bruce almost smiled.

Shifting where he stood, the blond crossed his arms over his chest and frowned a bit. "Idle hands, ya know."

Getting back to business, the Night Terror inquired, "Did they say where they were holding Static, or where the exchange was going to be made?"

"No. But, I am trying to trace the signal, as well as all the signals replying to it."

"I want to see the recording."

After that, it was all a matter of routing the information securely to a computer in the room. Using their combined skills, it took very little time to triangulate from where the feed came. By the time the three males were able to understand the who, what, when, and where, many of the responding signals were tapering off, showing the bidding was nearing an end.

"He's been planning this for a while. Some of this footage is old," Bruce remarked, noticing small variations to Static's attire and fighting style throughout the small bit.

"If the leader of the Breed--," J'onn began.

Richie answered without looking up from the map of from where they thought the signal came. "Ebon."

"If Ebon is able, he will get rid of Static tonight."

"From what I remember of his file, Ebon manipulates shadows, including transportation through them," Bruce nodded. "He'll get Static off his hands as soon as he's sure the money has cleared."

"Oh, shit," Richie whimpered.

Blue eyes narrowed with concentration as Bruce began to formulate a plan. "First, how familiar are you with this area of Dakota?"

"Who? Me?" the Chosen asked. "I grew up not a block away from there, in a rat infested trailer. I'd say I know it pretty damn well."

"Including this address?"

"Sure, it's an old warehouse. Used to belong to a mega-corporation, but it went under soon after the Big Bang."

The two Defenders shared another look, and then Bruce reached over to a small controller on his bed. "Alfred, would you please come to the Medical Center. We have a development."

"Of course, sir," came the soft reply.

"Richard, how many of your 'pet projects' have you completed?"

"Well, there's Backpack, some coil-traps, some electric-grenades, a pair of booster-rocket skates that work fairly well, a bunch of other experimental grenades," the young inventor rattled off. "There's also the things I made for Virgil, but he's got those on him. Why?"

"Have you experimented with using any of your new gadgets?"

"Sure. There wasn't any one else around who was available. And I'm kind of into the 'instant gratification' when it comes to my experiments. I like to know as soon as they're done if they work or not."

"Are you any good at them?"

J'onn gasped. "You cannot be serious!"

"I am."

"Huh?" Richie asked, his mind missing the obvious connection. Instead, he answered the earlier question. "I can usually hit the targets I'm aiming for. Usually."

Bruce nodded, though the Martian looked distinctly displeased. Before anything more could be said, a new figure entered the room.

"Master Bruce, I got here as soon as I could," Alfred said, by way of greeting them all. "What seems to be the issue?"

"Alfred, I need you to take Richard and get him an outfit."

"An outfit, sir?"

"Yes. Tonight he's going to be going down to Dakota. Take him by the lab to gather all of his tools, and then take him to get some form of disguise that will allow him to use all of the gear he's going to be wearing."

"What!" Richie asked, his voice rising to a noticeable squeak. "But I'm a Chosen! Not a Defender!"

"Most of my Chosen have gone on to become Defenders. This is no different," Bruce informed him. "And you won't be going out alone. You'll need a team for this, but make no mistake, you'll be in charge of your team. You're the one with the most knowledge about the location, and potential threats, if not the fighting."

"But--"

"Go. You're wasting time," ordered Bruce. "And while you're getting ready, I'll gather your team."

Warily, Richie followed the other Chosen out of the room, an entirely new brand of fear creeping into his thoughts.

**-oOo-**

Talon walked in to the main room, still a little high on adrenaline, and noticed that the only one who seemed to not be in good spirits was Carmen. The bestial meta-human sat back in a chair, an ice pack over his head and one leg propped up. It seemed that he'd been injured in the fight with Static, and therefore hadn't been able to be there when the final takedown occurred.

The takedown... That one, brief, glorious moment. It lasted less than ten minutes, but...it was everything. It was their shining moment, their declaration to the world that they, The Breed, were a forced to be noticed and acknowledged.

The evidence of their victory was 'lounging' unconscious in the corner. Puff with her knockout-gas breath, and Maria with her near ritualistic baths, insured that Static remained unconscious for the usual celebration that happened any time there was an Auction. They had originally thought to put Static in the bathroom but had decided against it. Everyone wanted to see their captured trophy. Plus! In case the Defenders, by some miracle, thought to come after the powerless guardian, they would all be ready to make sure that they got their butts handed to them. Again.

Normally, she would be behind the turntables, enjoying the chance to show off skills that had nothing to do with any kind of mutation, but tonight, Kangorr was trying his hand. From out of nowhere, Shiv arrived, grabbing her hand and dragging her out onto the dance floor.

"Have you gone loco?" the yellow-feathered female asked as the purple-haired male spun with her into the mix of bodies.

"Gone loco?" Shiv laughed. "Babe, we're all a little mad here!"

"Ain't that the truth!" Talon smiled. They still had time before the final bid came in. But even after the transaction occurred, the feathered female knew that the celebration wasn't going to end. Shaking her head, Talon began to move with the music, dancing along side other members of her makeshift family, trying to shake away the responsible nature to which she usually clung.

**-oOo-**

J'onn crossed his arms as Bruce watched each individual in the room, assessing them in a calculative way that was as notorious as it was necessary. The plan was simple. There were going to be two teams: one for a stealth strike to retrieve Static and a back-up team in case the first team needed rescuing.

This was, after all, more than a rescue mission. It was also a test.

However, there were some in the room who were questioning Bruce's choices and ideas. Sadly, the reasons were entirely personal.

"Are you sure you want Richie in charge of us -just- because he knows the area?" Black Canary and Speedy regarded Nightwing with cautious curiosity as the dark-haired male bit out, "Sure it's not for some other reason?"

Raven, Cyborg, and Supergirl stepped as far away from Nightwing and Bruce as they could get while still being in the room, grateful that they were not on the first team with the former Chosen. They were on the second team, the smash-'n-grab team, with Flash and Green Lantern. Their team leader was Green Lantern, of course, so they were very comfortable with the set-up. Even so, they could understand some of Nightwing's hesitation.

Not only was Richie a completely untried Defender with no training and without even a clue as to where he really was, in a space station rather than a Fortress somewhere on Earth, but also, there were the rumors that Richie was also sleeping with Batman. If the rumors were true, then there were all kinds of complications.

If Bruce was sleeping with someone else's Chosen, without permission, then the great Night Terror would be in violation of rules. However, if said Chosen were to be killed and the other Defender were to die as well, then Batman would have nothing about which to worry.

On the other hand, Richie was ideally suited for this mission, knowing the location, potential problems, and the inherent danger that would be surrounding both teams.

"I want this done fast, and I want it done well," Bruce answered coldly. "If you have a problem with this assignment, you don't have to go. I'll get someone else."

"He's inexperienced."

"So were you."

"Yeah. So was I," Nightwing retorted, though it was obvious that there was something else being said in his answer.

Before anything else could be said, the young man in question entered the room, following Alfred.

Richie was wearing green and white, something that was obviously going to attract some attention. His helmet was a basic skating helmet with a green visor over it. On his back, he wore what looked to be a small metal dome. Spanning over his chest were two rows of cylinder-like grenades. There were white kneepads, elbow pads, and shin guards, as well as gloves. And on his feet, he was wearing his skates. All in all, he looked like he was going out to a skate park, rather than to rescue his friend. No one was going to say anything though, even if Supergirl and Speedy were quietly smirking at his attire. It wasn't the strangest garb, but it was still amusing.

"Are you ready?" asked Bruce the young blond.

"I've got all my gear," Richie replied before he looked around the room at the gathered Defenders. When his eyes came upon Flash and Green Lantern, standing together and off in a corner, the young man blushed scarlet and dropped his gaze, unable to even look at the two.

"All right. There are going to be two teams. The first is going to attempt retrieval using stealth. The second team is there in case the first team needs rescuing as well. You'll be in charge of the first team, which consists of Black Canary, Speedy, Nightwing, and J'onn." Bruce informed the young inventor. "Any questions?"

Richie opened his mouth, intending to ask why didn't one of the others lead the team, but then decided against it. If he had any questions, he knew he'd ask one of the others. That was for what they were there. A good leader listens to his people, after all. Instead, he merely asked, "Is that it? That's the plan? Just throw us out there and see what happens?"

"We don't have enough information for a more concrete plan," Green Lantern stated. He tilted his head to the side as Richie looked at him and then quickly looked away.

Knowing that the situation he was in was only going to get more uncomfortable the longer they delayed, Richie sighed. "All right then. When do we leave?"

"Now."

"If you'll follow me," Alfred motioned. The others filed out of the room, some with more enthusiasm than others.

J'onn was last to leave, reluctant for his own reasons. He'd spent a great deal of time over the past two weeks with Bruce, and he was unsure how to interpret this change in their...friendship. Bruce had always avoided him before, but the past two weeks had allowed them the opportunity to talk and to understand each other. But J'onn knew that as soon as he walked out the door, their relationship was going to change again.

Still, there was nothing he could do about it. Before he left the room, though, Bruce spoke up. "J'onn. Good luck."

The Martian looked over his shoulder at the bedridden male, locking eyes with him. He didn't try to read Bruce's mind, though there was a silent understanding between them that if he wanted to at that moment, he could. Instead, he merely nodded.

There never was any going back. Not for any one or anything. And especially not for any of them.

**-oOo-**

The problem with flying while trapped within enclosed spaces was that there was no wind to provide that extra bit of lift needed to get any kind of altitude. That did not stop Talon from spreading her wings and gliding around the metal catwalks and beams that laced through the upper levels of the warehouse.

Flapping her wings to brake, Talon came to rest on top of one of the central beams overlooking the storage facility.

Who would have suspected that such a rattrap held so many powerful beings, one of which was an ever-so important Defender?

Said hero was directly below her: chained up, unconscious, hog-tied, sopping wet, and gag tied in his mouth to prevent him from making his usual smart-ass comments should he awaken. Talon had volunteered to be the emergency alarm, just in case someone tried to sneak in. It wasn't like they were really expecting anyone, but they were still going to stand guard just in case anyone was tried to steal their precious cargo.

Off in the corner, near one of the exits, she could see Puff and Onyx were amusing themselves with some kind of game to which only those two knew the rules. Turning her head the other direction, she could see Shiv juggling small, glowing objects, which were probably knives or something similar.

It was just as well that it was just them. The more people there this late at night, the more attention they would have drawn to themselves. As it was, Ebon had to take an injured Carmendillo back to the tunnels, where he could get patched up. As soon as he found someone to drop Carmen off with, he was going to return to the warehouse. Granted, with everyone else partying, who knew if any of them were capable of providing first aid. '_Probably rowdier than midnight at Mardi Gras..._' Talon thought, though she had neither been to Mardi Gras, nor had she known anyone who had. But she'd heard stories. One thing she knew for sure, there weren't going to be a lot of sober people in the morning.

A gurgling from below caught Talon's attention, and the golden feathered female looked down.

"Man, I don't see why we have to be here in this filthy place." Aquamaria groused. "I'd much prefer to be back in the tunnels."

"You do realize that the tunnels are part of the sewer system, right?" Talon asked rhetorically. She finished by fluffing her feathers. "They're cleaner than this place. This place is just less familiar."

"You can't tell me you're comfortable here."

"Then I won't." The avian meta-human retorted. "It's just that to me, walls are walls. They're all confining. And they all offer a place to hide from humans."

To that, the liquid female had nothing to say. They both knew that the real reason Maria didn't want to be there was because if she were back in the tunnels, she could be in her room, staring at pictures of her and Hotstreak.

"Who do you think is going to want to buy him?" Maria tilted her head quickly, indicated the curled up form of Static.

Talon grinned as she fluttered to a different beam. "I'm thinking either Alva or Lex Corp. They're both got a lot of money and a lot of muscle. They'll be able to keep him in line."

"I've got money riding on the North Koreans. They're in the market for cheap energy."

"Where'd you hear that?"

"The news."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Maria nodded, flinging an arm out to lash the still unconscious Defender with another stream of water. "I wanted to take my mind of my problems, so I started flipping through the channels. Ended up on one of those 24-hour news channels. Watched that for a while... It's something Hotstreak told me about. Bookies do it when they're going to lay odds for a game. Find out everything you can about the players. What they had for dinner the night before, how their relationships are going, when was the last time they were home. Personal stuff. That way, you know their state of mind going into a game. I figure, if you know the buyers, then you know who has more desire, resources, and overall ability to get."

"And so, your first guess is North Korea?"

"Yep," came the slightly bubbling response, "but, just in case, I've also got a spot of money riding on Alva."

"Hedging your bets?"

"Nah, just figure I'd put in something for Francis," Maria replied with a shrug. After another less than subtle pause, she continued, "Ya know what? Ebon says that he thinks Poison Ivy would like to employ me. And that for the most part, I wouldn't have to fight, just have to help her take care of her garden."

"Aren't Poison Ivy and Two Face ex-lovers?"

"Yeah... But it would get me out of Dakota."

"True. And there's always the chance that mortal enemies can work together for the greater purpose," Talon agreed, half-heartedly. "Like taking down the Defenders."

"Exactly." Maria smiled. "I mean, we've already taken one down."

**-o0o-**

Batman was a bastard. And apparently did some heavy drugs.

That was the only conclusion Richie could come up with as he and his band of less than merry Defenders moved through the darkened alleys, trying to find the one, specific storehouse where the Breed was hopefully still hiding Static. It seemed that the location of the transmission was not the actual location of the warehouse. Piracy at its best was piracy when no one knew.

"I thought you knew this area," Nightwing hissed as they crept through the shadows.

"I do," replied Richie, trying to bite back the urge to turn around and smack the other male. He had no idea what he had done to piss the former Robin off, but whatever it was, he wasn't as sorry as he was irritated. "But while I know the area, I don't know the layout of the inside of each of these warehouses to match with what was seen on the broadcast."

"How many of them are there around here?" Speedy asked, practically throwing himself into the conversation. The tension between the two former Chosen was thick enough to cut with a spoon.

"There are only fifteen in the area we need to search," Richie stated, giving an inward sigh, "seven of which we've already covered."

"We have?" Black Canary asked, somewhat surprised. As far as she had been aware, they'd only been walking by the large storehouses. Maybe there was more to the kid in front of her than she first assumed. Then again, maybe not. One brief glimpse of brilliance did not make a genius. One act of kindness did not make a saint. And one day of being a hero did not make one a Defender.

"I've been scanning them for heat signatures of any kind," the bespectacled youth grinned. "None of the dock workers around here work at night, at least not since the Big Bang. It's too dangerous. None of the worker's unions will allow for it, and they usually have the barest skeleton security crew working."

"And you know this because...?" Speedy pressed, curious.

"My dad is a dock-worker. Or was. Whatever," Richie stumbled as he tried to avoid going into too much detail about his life before becoming a Chosen. "Anyway, I know a bit about this area because of that."

"Do you have any idea who we might be going up against?" asked Nightwing, breaking into the conversation once again.

"Not right now, but I do know it's The Breed, and they are usually bad news," said Richie as he analyzed the readings on the next warehouse.

"Maybe, but I don't feel like overestimating a bunch of enhanced teenagers."

"Funny, I imagine there are quite a number of criminals that think the same thing about the Teen Titans and any number of Robins that there've been," Richie shot back calmly.

"Niiiice," Speedy hissed.

At that moment, J'onn materialized among them, his eyes glowing in the shadows between buildings. "I have just spoken with Supergirl and Green Lantern. They say that the area is secure for whenever we are ready to proceed."

"Now, all we need is a target," Black Canary smiled.

"Target acquired," answered Richie. "Two buildings ahead of us. Several heat signatures, but that doesn't mean anything."

"Then why have you been scanning for them?"

"Because there are very few Bang Babies that -don't- give off heat signatures, even cold spots, but they're -all- affiliated with The Breed. However, most of the Breed's highest officers, as well as the majority of their group, all give off heat signatures," Richie detailed as he glanced towards J'onn. "And they all have thought patterns."

The alien smirked slightly as he raised one hand to his forehead, bracing himself for what he was about to endure. Human minds, especially young, altered human, minds were often a bit...trying. "I detect...five people there, plus Static."

"You can sense Static?" Speedy asked, surprised.

"He is alive, but unconscious."

"All right then, we should--"

"Follow Richie," Nightwing broke in.

All eyes turned to look at the former bat-protégé, and then to Richie, who was blushing behind his green visor.

"Uh, okay, then. Stop me if you've heard this one before..."

**-o0o-**

As far as Shiv was concerned, dirt had a distinctive smell. He couldn't differentiate all the different types of dirt, like Carmen or Ferret, but he knew that dirt smelt different from metal shavings or sawdust. It smelled...colder. And it usually smelled either wet or dry, depending.

For instance, even though he sat in a warehouse, surrounded by all kinds of metal objects, packing material, oil, grime, and the bay not to far off, Shiv knew he could smell the scent of soil coming from one of the crates. Potting soil, to be precise. Wet, clumpy, and sticky potting soil. He hated that smell. He much preferred the stench of his home or the smell of spilt blood, as long as it wasn't his of course.

Be that as it may, Shiv did his best to ignore it, just as he did the more mundane sounds he heard from inside and outside of the warehouse. The waves crashing up against the docks. The freeway that ran close to the warehouse district. Some homeless family's loud and hungry infant. And the distilled sounds of conversation from the others.

Not that he was lonely or anything, but he kind of wished that someone would come over and talk with him, too. 'Kind of' in that way that some girls got 'kind of' pregnant or something.

To occupy himself while he waited for something to either happen or to be called back, Shiv began to play with a couple tennis balls that he brought with him, just in case. He still had Static's little shield thingy tucked away in an inside pocket, but he didn't bother pulling that out. Not yet at least. He wanted to make sure that he was going to have privacy and time when he finally got around to playing with it. The purple-haired meta-human began tossing the three yellow-ish balls into the air. He'd wanted time to practice his juggling skills, and this was as good as any.

As focused as he needed to be on that task, Shiv still found himself distracted.

Dismissing the sounds of cars passing on a near-by freeway, and the occasional plane flying overhead were no problem. However, the sound of something metal clattering to the ground inside the warehouse, when there weren't any other sounds from the general area was something else entirely. Looking around, Shiv tried to spot a golden feather or some other sign that Talon was fooling around with him. When he heard, rather than saw, the female still talking with Aquamaria, he figured it was going to be up to him to check it out.

Being as quiet as he could be, the meta-human slipped into the multitude of shadows between the boxes. The ladder to the upper level, as opposed to the stairs, wasn't too far away, and unless there was someone other than Talon already up on the catwalks and high beams, Shiv knew that no one would spot him getting to the higher level.

As he climbed the metal rungs, the young man realized that for him, speed and stealth were mutually exclusive ideas, and he had to choose one or the other. In this instance, he chose speed while trying to keep his racket as low-key as possible.

Which, it turned out, was a good thing.

From the top of the ladder, Shiv was able to spot three people whom he knew didn't belong there. One had a bow and arrow, one was a chick in heels, and the last was some long-haired guy. Taking a moment to study the intruders, Shiv felt his heart jump in tempo and location: from his chest to his throat.

How the hell had Speedy, Black Canary, and Nightwing found them? And how had Black Canary gotten up there in those heels without making any noise?

Knowing that to call out would mean detection without doing much good, Shiv figured the best course of action was to actually take action. Being very careful, the purple-haired male climbed up onto the higher level. He knew he'd have to make some kind of noise to alert the others what was going on, but he also knew that once he pounced on their intruders there was going to be more than enough noise to wake the neighborhood. At least he hoped so.

From where he stood, Shiv could see Speedy taking aim, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out for whom he was aiming. Talon! Without conscious thought, and frightened beyond belief, Shiv moved. His hands glowed faintly purple as they formed long blades of steel.

His name was Shiv. That's who he was and what he was: a shiv buried in the ribs of his enemies. And he hoped they choked on it.

Talon turned at the sound of a loud crashing noise just in time to feel the feathers of a passing arrow skim her face. Feathers fell to the ground as the avian female took flight in surprise. Below her, Maria was taking action as well, forming a puddle on the ground in the hopes of surprising anyone who might try to steal Static. The arrow continued on its path, unmolested, until it hit an unforgiving surface. Onyx felt the arrow tip explode into a fizzing gunk on his back, but it did nothing more than annoy him.

Even though he managed to distract Speedy and alert the others, Shiv did not beat his opponent. The archer's back-up, Nightwing, quickly took out the attacking male, though he did get a bloody scratch for his efforts. Purple light faded as Shiv's hands returned to normal, even as the meta-human fell from the scaffolding. Talon arrived just in time to catch the purple-haired Bang Baby in mid-fall and glide him to a safer landing.

If their intruders had a plan when they entered the building, Talon hoped that it wouldn't last. Street fights, their kind of fights, weren't like the fights on television or in the movies. There was no choreography to it, no sense. It was chaos, everyone reacting and trying to outlast and out-maneuver everyone else.

After taking out Shiv, Nightwing pulled out a grappling rope and threw out the hook. Swinging away from the catwalk, Nightwing had one target in mind: the big, rock-looking Bang Baby. Figuring that Onyx was the muscle of the group, and the one most in need of taking down, it was no wonder that the former protégé of the Night Terror focused on him.

From his vantage point, still hidden in the shadows of the second level beams and catwalks, Speedy was able to see exactly where Nightwing was headed, and the fact that it was going to take more than one of them to take the big guy down. He notched another arrow and took aim. It was no wonder then, that he was completely blind-sided by a strange mist that formed around him, smelling of sulfur and...something else.

Black Canary jumped from the high beam she was standing on to one of the crates below her. She had an idea where Static was, and that was her destination. Using the momentum of falling to spring her forward, the blond Defender moved as fluidly as an acrobat towards the center of the complex, moving far too fast to notice that some of the shadows did not react to her actions as they should have.

Aquamaria had no idea who was attacking, specifically, though she figured it had to be some of the other Defenders, and she had no idea how many people were involved. That didn't matter, though. What did matter was taking care of business. That was all that ever mattered. So, when Black Canary landed just inside the make-shift walls surrounding Static and herself, the liquid female knew she had to take her time and be cautious. They might have taken down one Defender, but they had known a lot more about him than about the others.

Black Canary checked the scene, using her eyes as well as her ears. The only sounds she heard were Static's labored breathing as he struggled to stay alive, fighting in the distance, and her heart beat bouncing around in her ears. From what Richie had said, these Bang Babies were tricky. Then again, this was coming from someone she suspected had a healthy fear of just about everyone kicking his ass. She knew that one of the ways to render Static impotent was to get him wet, so she figured that must be the reason for so much water on the ground. Taking a deep breath, the fishnet wearing Defender stepped forward, barely concerned with how wet the ground underfoot was.

From out of nowhere, a hard uppercut knocked the blond female off her feet and sent her flying back into the hard wood of a nearby crate. Blinking stars from her eyes, the blond female gathered her wits around her again. Standing before her, as much as a pillar of water could 'stand', was a young woman, looking none too pleased to see her. "Hola, Senora Canary."

Blue eyes widened as Aquamaria raised one hand and pointed at her adversary. Using her powers to send a stream of water out, the transfigured young woman wrapped her enlarged fist around the blond's head.

Drowning took time, but not that much time. Maybe a minute.

The liquid female had never taken delight in inflicting harm on others, but when it came to the Defenders, she couldn't help but feel that they deserved it somehow. She tried to remain detached as the blond woman struggled, trying to pry liquid fingers and hands away from her face. Such desperation. It was so strange to see one of the adult Defenders so...helpless.

As defenseless as Black Canary seemed, she was not without resources. Or, in this case, allies. An arrow flew down from the red-haired archer, an accidental shot that did a lot of good for his fellow hero, as the arrow was filled with a gelatin.

"What's a matter, ya wanna-be Robin Hood? Or you just wanna be Robin?" Puff sneered as she flew around the quick youth.

"Who says I want to be someone other than who I am?" Coughing, and trying to dodge what he suspected was a very toxic cloud of fumes, Speedy continued, "After all, I'm the best at what I do."

"Oh, please. You know, the problem with you Defender-types is that you guys take luck as a sign of being good. You're not."

"The same could be said for you, ya know," the red-head retorted as he shot off another arrow. He knew he was better than this, but it was hard to fight an opponent that didn't have a solid or even liquid form. He was much better suited to fight someone like the water-girl down below. After all, he hadn't sparred with Aqualad all those hours for nothing. As yet another arrow flew from his bow, the blasted thing melting as it passed through the girl, the young archer figured if he had any kind of luck on this night, it was all bad.

Onyx growled low as something sharp stung him, but he didn't pay it too much attention. Instead, he focused on trying to grab the little man in front of him who refused to stand still long enough for either of them to attempt to cause any kind of damage to the other.

Nightwing bounced from the floor to the wall of a crate. Using the firm wood as a spring board, the purely human male pushed off of that and tried to kick Onyx in the head. Instead of his foot connecting with facial features, it was caught in a bone-breaking grip that caused the long-haired male to yelp in sudden pain.

As far as plans went, the lone member of the Bat family had to admit that Richie's was simple and straightforward. Find out who they were up against, try to either neutralize them or avoid them if possible, and sneak Static out. Simple. Those with the best stealth and fighting abilities go in first. J'onn would sneak in from the front while Richie would climb in after the others and go find Static if they hadn't broadcasted the all-clear signal.

That way, the less experienced person stayed out of the fray, and the more experienced people could do what they did best.

Of course, there was a part of Nightwing that suspected that Richie knew what they were all up against, but due to his earlier comments, had kept it from them. It was cruel, but justifiable.

Nightwing was thrown down, hard, against the concrete floor, and took notice not only of the pain but that something broke inside of him. A lot of somethings in fact. There was a scream that ripped through the warehouse, and for a moment, he wondered if he'd been the cause.

Aquamaria howled as she was forcibly turning solid. It -hurt-! It actually -hurt-! So distracted by this almost forgotten sensation, the meta-human released her prey. Black Canary fell to the ground, choking out water. Her stomach rebelled as well, and she threw up everything in her stomach. Sopping wet strands of blond hair fell forward as she emptied her system, and in that moment, Black Canary realized something. She was afraid.

She'd almost died!

Raising her head, Black Canary set her sights on the slowly hardening figure in front of her, blond locks falling in her eyes. Turning her fear to anger was no problem. Controlling that anger could be. Using her sonic vocals, Black Canary screamed at the Bang Baby, "Bitch!"

The pieces of Maria's body that had become solid shattered, even as the rest of the girl seemed to explode like a busted water balloon.

The blond Defender smiled grimly. Maybe there was more to these kids than she'd first suspected, but she knew that there was no substitute for experience.

That was Black Canary's last thought as a much louder, much closer, much angrier sonic shriek from behind sent the high-heeled Defender forward at a bone crushing speed, straight into the unforgiving surface of a nearby support beam. As the blond woman fell to the ground, small trickles of blood came from both her ears, the first evidence of her busted eardrums.

For Talon, her smile was more like a baring of teeth than anything else. She waited for the blond to get up; if she'd learned nothing else from all the stories about the Defenders, she knew that they never stayed down for long. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the shadows along the wall spiral towards her. Backing up a step, so that she was able to observe both the shadow and the fallen woman, Talon became even more wary.

Fortunately, it was only Ebon. "What the hell is going on?"

"Defenders found us," Talon replied, glancing over to the still huddled form of Static. Praise be to whatever was looking out for them tonight because that little problem child was still unconscious. "Shiv is down for the count, and Onyx is taking care of Nightwing. But I don't know for how long. These are Big Time Defenders. We gotta get outta here!"

Ebon nodded his shadowed head. "You get Static out of here. I'll fetch the others."

"Not so fast, Ebon!" a new voice called out. Ebon and Talon turned in unison towards the stranger.

Of all the sights that they expected, a skater punk was not on their list.

Talon took to the air as the boy in green and white threw a strange canister towards them. The avian female expected it to be a gas-grenade, and knew that she needed to get out of its way before it put her out. Strangely enough, gas did not expel from the canister. Instead, a dozen metal tentacles did, each one grabbing at Ebon, wrapping around him as if to encase him in a cocoon of metal limbs. The shadowed shape-shifter was having none of it, though, and slipped through the arms like water through a sieve. However adept he was at escaping the encapsulated tentacles, there was another threat on which he hadn't counted.

Talon called out in surprise as, rising out of the floor, a new figure joined the fray. Coming out of the woodwork took on an entirely new, frightening definition as the two Meta Breed members saw their newest opponent. The Martian Manhunter stood tall, his arms crossed, as he blocked Ebon's rush attack towards the young skater boy.

From her vantage point, above the fray of the two shape shifters, but below the level of the catwalks, Talon saw out of her peripheral vision a figure tumbling from the catwalks down to the ground floor. Turning quickly, she saw that it was only Speedy, having lost his battle with Puff. It was time to call for a retreat. "Puff, Onyx! Get Shiv and get out! More Defenders are arriving!"

Even though Puff was not fluent in Spanish, or any language other than English for that matter, she got the general impression. She gave a thumbs-up sign as she headed over to Shiv. On the other side of the warehouse, a loud crash caused the entire building to shake. Looking over in that direction, Talon could see a portion of the wall was gone, and Onyx was stepping out into the night.

Since the others were taken care of, or at least close to it, Talon knew it was her responsibility to get Static out of there as well.

Unfortunately, someone was trying to beat her to him.

Richie knelt down by Static, checking his throat for a pulse to see how badly damaged he was. '_Shitshitshit! This is not good. This is so not good._' He understood, probably better than just about everyone else, how dangerous a situation this was. Not only was Static out for the count, but he had heard Speedy go down as well, Black Canary wasn't moving, and there was no word from Nightwing. Not to mention Ebon was there, twisting and turning through air like a dragon made of liquid shadows, only kept in check by the equally disturbing draconian figure of J'onn.

And his hands were shaking, which wasn't helping him check Static's vitals at all.

The young man knew that there was a back-up team waiting for the signal. A part of him hated the idea of having to call for them. It hurt his pride. It was a sign that he couldn't handle himself, and that he was a failure. At the same time, things weren't looking good.

"He's alive, amigo. Which is more than I can say for you." Talon told him, her voice and demeanor hardened by what she'd already done and what she was going to do.

Richie looked up just in time to get hit full force by a sonic blast.

Pain wasn't a stranger to the blond youth, but each introduction to the element was always a reminder of why Richie tried to avoid it. And it was an interesting discovery to note that his body actually bounced off of wood. '_Yeah, so not good._' Raising two fingers to the side of his helmet, Richie made the call.

Then he stood up on shaking legs and tried to rejoin the fight. If nothing else, he was going to get Virgil out of there.


	10. Closure

_Disclaimer: I still don't own the characters, and I do have a job now. Go me! ._

_Warnings: **Slash** (Virgil/Richie, GL/Flash, others), **Alternate Universe**, **Crossover** _

_Author's Note: The end! Finally! _

_Ratings: M _

_Title: Like A Dream_ Like A Dream Chapter Ten 

J'onn stretched his natural fingers. He stood in the darkness of one of the many observation chambers, alone in body if not in mind, stripped of the illusion he projected to the others. No false form. No false clothes. Nothing but his real skin in his real form.

It had been a while since he'd been down to the surface of Earth. For the most part, his duties were mostly...observation. He sometimes wondered if the humans around him realized how different they were from his own people. His race, his species, had been peaceful by nature and had only been militant by necessity. But these creatures, these humans, seemed to enjoy combat and conflict. They marked their timelines by death and by wars. Who better to witness the miracle and the disaster of the human condition than someone who remained outside of it?

An alien. An outsider.

An observer.

But yesterday, that had changed. Because, yesterday, he'd gone down to the surface. And instead of observing, he'd taken an active part in the battle. He'd shed the illusion he kept around himself then, too. He'd become...something different. Someone different.

He'd become dangerous.

He'd become a living weapon, using his morphing, phasing, and telepathy to their limit. Even as his body twisted through living shadows, cold steel, and hard wood, his mind was twisting through the dark, dangerous thoughts of his enemy. Each fluid-like move he made--whether physical or mental--was meant to locate a weakness.

Maybe it was evidence to the influence of the humans around him, specifically Bruce, but there was a part of him that liked it. Worse, though, was that he held no regrets. No sorrow.

However, he did feel sympathy for their captured prey.

For the girl.

J'onn felt someone approaching the observation room, and with a mental sigh, he reconfigured his body so that he appeared 'normal' to human eyes again. Though how they could see him as alien when confronted with the mutations of their own species, he was unclear about.

"--Princess, please!"

"I've heard your arguments, Jennifer," said Diana as she stepped into the dimness of the observation room.

On her heels, a young woman dressed in the small sarong of one of the Chosen followed her, wringing her hands with an easily readable look of distress in her eyes. "But, she's a monster. It's no better than taking a beast to your bed, an animal!"

J'onn raised one eyebrow ridge at the two females before turning to the window in front of him. There on the floor, still wrapped up in the metal arms of the trap that caught her, the young, winged meta-human lay. She was muzzled, to keep her secondary powers under control.

"She was born human, like you," Wonder Woman chastised, "like every other Chosen here. By our Law, she is still human, no matter her appearance."

"But Princess--!"

"ENOUGH!" Diana shouted, her voice echoing in the small chamber. It was bad enough to have such a clingy, needy Chosen, but for one to have the gall to make demands of a Defender in -public- was embarrassing! "I've made the decision. She is going to be mine. If you cannot abide by my choice, then it will be very easy for me to dismiss you into someone else's services."

Jennifer opened her mouth, shocked and horrified. She tried to say something, but in the end, the young woman was only able to say, very quietly, "As you wish, your Majesty."

In the reflection of the window, J'onn saw Diana nod and then make a shooing motion with her hands, dismissing the young Chosen from the room, if not from her services. Once the blond was gone, the Amazon released a soft sigh and turned to regard the prone figure in the next room.

The two Defenders were quiet for a time, but like all peace on Earth, it was very short-lived. "Sometimes, I question the sanity and reasoning of the women who've been raised in the World of Men. Be that as it may, what she said was very...tactless, and I apologize for her, should her words have made you uncomfortable."

"I have heard worse since coming to this planet," J'onn remarked.

"I know, but there is no reason for it, and no reason that people should think like that. You are enough like us that our differences are not as important as our similarities. You deserve everything that we do. Honor. Justice. Pride," Wonder Woman advocated. "And you deserve love. Just like she does."

The Martian had no words for a moment, at least none that could adequately express his thoughts in any of the languages she knew. After a short pause filled with many unspoken things, the green male finally replied, "There are many here who do not feel the same."

"And they are fools."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps they do not believe in taking a known enemy into their homes and giving them a place by their hearths."

"She does not have to be an enemy, though. If given a chance, she could be...so much more than the role she's been forced into."

"Is that why you are doing this? Is that why you are taking her as your newest Chosen? To give her a chance?"

Diana paused, tilting her head to the side. For a moment, the princess thought about lying. But lies and half-truths were the ways of men, and she prided herself on her upbringing. Plus, J'onn was a telepath, and what was the point in trying to lie to someone who could read minds?

"Why, Princess? Think carefully, because others here will be asking the same questions."

"I'm doing this because...I'm doing this because I do not see what others see. I see someone who deserves more than what life has given to her. I see someone with potential. I see...I see a Sister."

J'onn nodded his head slowly, accepting her answer. He was well aware of her thoughts, because even though he did not like to use his telepathy on his fellow Defenders, it was not a 'skill' he could merely turn off. "What if she refuses?"

"She will not," Wonder Woman stated quietly. "We have never taken a prisoner before, and we never will. One way or another, she will choose her own fate. Become mine, or..."

Somewhere, in the Fortress, someone was singing an infectious tune that was annoying as it was repetitive. '_Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream..._' The green-skinned male could only hope that the song was correct, and that for the girl's sake, her life did not become a living nightmare. "I have found that some believe Death is more desirable than living as a slave to someone else's desires."

"Some do," agreed Diana, "but she won't. I can tell that she understands life is what you make it. And a life here, even as an unwilling Chosen, is preferable to many alternatives."

J'onn bowed his head in acknowledgement. The young meta-human did seem to be a survivor. That much was true.

Diana nodded as well, spinning on her booted heel to leave. Just before she left the room, she looked over her shoulder at the Martian and very quietly informed him, "I know that you calm Bruce's dreams, just as I know that he never belonged to me in the same way that he would willingly belong to you."

The green-skinned male turned slightly to look at the dark-haired warrior maiden.

"For that I am grateful." And then she was gone, striding down the hallway to meet her newest acquisition.

J'onn smiled slightly, wondering if what he'd just heard had actually been said, or if it was merely the Amazon's thoughts he'd read. Or if, perhaps, it had been merely a figment of someone's dream...

-0-

There was no slow ascension to wakefulness. There was no gentleness to consciousness. There was merely pain. But he was used to pain, both physical and other. Bruce went from deep sleep to wide-awake without even being able to note the transition.

Somewhere, in his head, the part of him that was lonely and more poetic than the rest, he thought that maybe he should have noticed waking up, like he did when J'onn was nearby, keeping the nightmares at bay. The same part of him thought that maybe he should also have realized when he fell asleep.

Brushing such foolish thoughts aside, the multi-millionaire was distinctly aware of company in his otherwise quiet room. And it wasn't J'onn. Or Alfred.

"John."

Hidden in the shadows of the darkened room, his arms folded across his chest and remaining as still as humanly possible, he wasn't sure what gave him away, but whatever it was probably had more to do with Bruce's inherent paranoia than anything he might have done. He'd been watching the still injured man sleep for almost five minutes, which wasn't much time in the grand scheme of things, but considering it was Batman, and Batman hated being observed without permission, it was an incredibly long moment.

It was rather strange that it wasn't just the Chosen who came to the Fortress with grand dreams of a better life. Among the Defenders, most began their heroic careers to do good. To -be- good. They all began with dreams. But Bruce hadn't. John knew enough about the Night Terror to know that.

"Bruce." The former U.S. Marine regarded the still human Defender, his falsely green eyes narrowing cautiously. Afraid. Afraid of what he was thinking. Afraid of finding out the truth. Who in their right mind sent an untrained Chosen to the field? And granted, this was Batman, and no one claimed that he was always within his right mind, but still. There had to be a reckoning at some point. Hadn't there? "We got Static back."

To which Bruce said nothing, as nothing needed to be said.

"It was a near thing, though," John continued. He still remembered coming in on the scene, following on the heels of Flash and Supergirl. Nightwing was down for the count. Black Canary was likewise. Speedy... Well, he'd be sharing a room with his mentor.

There was also the sight of Manhunter, forgoing his normal shape as he twisted around and through the other shape-shifter, Ebon. Telepathy, teleportation, phasing, and shadow manipulation. Those powers and abilities made John slightly nauseous as he watched their battle, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He doubted he'd ever be able to adequately describe that battle. No one could, really. There just weren't enough words, and the words they did have weren't...right enough.

And then there was Richie. He had barely held his own, placing himself between a harpy and a defenseless Static.

John didn't mention any of it, though. Instead, he allowed the silence to stretch on, wondering if the all-too-human vigilante was even curious as to what really happened.

Bruce quirked an eyebrow.

"No casualties, but there are injured. The stealth team got attacked, but Richie was smart and called for backup. In the end, we got everyone out, relatively quietly," explained John. "Plus, we caught one of them."

"How's Richard?"

John smirked, though it was a mixture of pride and anger. He wasn't sure what Bruce's game was, but he didn't like that the broody Defender asked about the blond before the bagged prize. He hadn't questioned Batman's motives before, not with witnesses around. It was bad for morale to question another founding member in front of the younger, newer ones. But there was no one around now. "He's with Virgil right now, both of them healing. The kid passed your trial by fire, even if it did nearly cost us him -and- Static."

"I had faith in him," the blue-eyed male half smiled. "He's intelligent and resourceful. And he'd make an excellent partner for Virgil. You might have noticed: Dakota is a dangerous place. He needs backup."

"And not to mention if he's a Defender, then there won't be any problems with him sleeping with someone other than Virgil," John warned.

Bruce's smile thinned to something far more sinister. "Don't threaten me, John. I had no intention to steal Richard from anyone. Ever."

"With your reputation, I find that hard to believe."

"Sticks and stones, John," scoffed Bruce, as if John were a mere child. "Richard does not interest me sexually."

"But you admit to using him."

"Virgil knows. He consented to it."

"What?"

"What you and most of the others fail to realize is everyone has their use. Some people see others as sexual tools. Some see them as weapons. Others see people as cogs in a great machine. I see potential in everyone, John. Everyone can be anything. All it takes is the right opportunity and the right incentive." Bruce smirked. "Richard assisted me in the lab. That was all."

Considering that they had all gained a new Defender in the process, John wasn't able to complain too vehemently about what the Night Terror had done, even though he had manipulated everyone in the Fortress. Still, manipulation and subterfuge were not...crimes that were banned among the Defenders. "So everyone is a tool to you?"

The injured male merely moved his head in a gentle shrug, neither denying nor acknowledging the fact.

"You could have gotten Richie killed. Hell, you could have gotten all of us killed. That was a damn suicide mission you sent us out on!" The glowing emerald eyes shined brighter than normal with righteous anger. "And what's worse is that you knew it."

For a moment, the bedridden man said nothing. And then, in the ever-so-calm voice he used when talking to any number of victims, hiding what he truly felt while simultaneously dodging some of the accusations thrown at him, Bruce stated, "Talking about 'might-have-been's and 'what-if's never solved any problems. Taking action has. I may not have taken physical action, but I made the call."

John stood there, regarding the 'defenseless' man in the bed. There were no words that could adequately express John's disgust or anger, and if he tried, the former Marine knew he'd just fall into a homicidal fit. And knowing Batman as well as he did, John knew that even bedridden, Bruce would win. He was just that damn good. He'd have to be to keep up with all the meta-humans, altered humans, aliens, androids, and other assorted characters in the League. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the blue-eyed male. Of all the members of the Defenders, Batman was one of the most powerful, even without any kind of super-powers, both on the field and on the Council. He was also the most dangerous.

How naïve had he been all of these years to have willfully overlooked this fact?

John shook his head and clenched his teeth, barely able to restrain himself. Spinning on his heel, the Chicago born Defender left the still darkened room, feeling an uncomfortable weight settling in his stomach. He never thought that there would come a day when he questioned the validity of everything he was doing, but suddenly, he was doing just that. At what point did his dream of saving people and being a hero turn into a nightmare of deceit, manipulation, and second-guessing? And was he the only one?

The real question was: when had Bruce started pulling all of their strings?

Was it when the Fortress was first created? When the first Chosen were brought onboard? When the Chosen became something less than students and something more than friends? Were there people who had their strings cut? Were John's, now that he knew that there was a puppet master? Or were the strings tied all that much tighter, now that he knew there was a man behind the curtain?

Large, muscled arms tightened and flexed with the suppressed need to lash out as he made his way back to his room. He hoped that Flash would be there, if for no other reason than the speedster always managed to distract him. And he desperately needed distraction. The world had either gone insane when he wasn't looking, or he'd somehow awaken to find that he'd been living in a dream for the past few years. Because that was what life as a Defender had been. A dream.

The grandeur of the Fortress hallways was lost in the haze as his thoughts whirled in a prism of colors and drama.

Entering a room without paying attention to whose room it was, green eyes immediately caught the sight of red hair and pale flesh. It took a moment, but John realized he'd walked all the way to Flash's room without thinking about it, too lost in other, more distressing thoughts. Wally stood up and opened his mouth to speak, but John merely shook his head. He wasn't in the mood to talk.

Fortunately, no words were needed.

With as long as they'd known each other and as much as they'd been through, Wally knew something was wrong. So when John came over and pulled him in for a fierce hug, he simply went with it. Later, he could ask what was wrong. Later, he could try to fix things. But for now... For now, he'd merely accept this and work with it.

That's what Defenders did, after all. They worked with their circumstances and still made things right for others.

-o-

"Hush, bro, you're safe," Richie whispered as Virgil began to sluggishly fight off unconsciousness.

The black superhero was also trying to fight off phantom attackers. Unfortunately, the only one in the room with him was Richie. Fortunately, the blond was smart enough to remain out of harms way as the weakened Defender fought off the ghosts and sheets.

Virgil quieted in his bed, exhausted while being comforted by the familiar voice. Dark chocolate eyes opened slowly, and remained unfocused as the world tried to swim against the current and into view. When his eyes did find something to fixate on, Virgil was greeted by Richie's concerned visage. "Hey, Rich, what'd I miss?"

"Oh, everything," the blond male grinned, relieved beyond words that Virgil had awakened sooner rather than later.

"Yeah, figures." Virgil tried to grin, though it seemed a mere glimmer of its usual shine.

"Yeah, well, when you're feeling up to it, I'll tell you all the news," replied the bespectacled youth.

There was something in Richie's voice that caught Virgil's attention, something that dragged him from the edge of comfortable haze back to the land of alertness. "Hey man, I'm always feeling up to some good news."

Richie bit his lower lip and looked away. The room was like any other infirmary room, stylized so that everything that wasn't chrome was a dull shade of off-white, and provided nothing in the way of distraction. "Yeah, well, first, I gotta call the doctors in here to check you over."

As if on cue, five of the resident medics came bustling into the room. Richie stepped back, out of everyone's way, but he didn't leave the room. There was too much that had to be done, too much that needed to be said.

Virgil kept his eyes on Richie through the entire ordeal with the medics. He even managed to not flinch at the cold press of the metal stethoscope. However, the more the small band of healers moved about, checking on various machines and getting in his line of sight, the more he wished the swarm would just leave. Something was up. Something important by the look on Richie's face. Not for the first time, the Dakota-born Defender figured that all doctors were born meddlers and were delaying their stay in his room on purpose. Finally, after what seemed like forever, but which was in fact only two hours, and with the promise of more tests yet to come, the small horde of witch-doctors left.

When they were alone again, it seemed neither one of them knew what to do with themselves. Virgil knew he didn't have enough energy or strength to get up out of bed, and Richie was...fidgeting, repeatedly cleaning his glasses and shifting from one foot to the other.

"So?"

"So?" repeated the blond.

"Are your glasses clean enough that you can tell me what's been going on while I've been chillin'?"

Richie grimaced as he sat back down. "Well, I'm not sure if you're going to like this..."

"What's wrong? What happened?" Virgil rasped, afraid. He hadn't had the sense to be afraid before, but now... Now, he was. Well, maybe not afraid so much as worried. Very worried. Because there were all kinds of things that could have gone wrong while he was gone. All kinds of things in all kinds of ways.

Conspiracy theories aside, Green Lantern had said something about a Defender missing and a Chosen being taken by another, and he knew that Batman had his sights set on Richie. He knew it. After all, who wouldn't want their own Chosen Richie?

"Well... Do you want the good news, the bad news, or the explanation to both?"

Dark eyes blinked several times before the injured youth replied, "Bad news first, then the good news as a chaser, then the explanation."

"Bad news is: I'm no longer you Chosen--"

"The fuck you say!" Virgil cried out, trying to sit up. And immediately fell back into the bed with a wave of nausea and dizziness. It was true! Batman made a move while he was gone and now Richie belonged to the Night Terror! Small, useless sparks crackling around his eyes and at the ends of his fingertips. "I wasn't gone for that long!"

"No, no, you were only gone for a little while, but--" Richie tried to calm his friend even as he glanced at the door, half expecting a nurse or orderly or someone to come rushing back in.

"I'm going to kill him," hissed the dark-skinned Defender, eyes narrowing. His body took note of Richie's hands on his shoulders, pressing him back into the bed, but that small amount of contact was not near enough to sooth his ire.

"Whoa, hold up a second! " Richie shouted in alarm. "First, hear me out, and then you can decide what we're going to do. I haven't even told you what's happened yet."

"So tell me." Virgil fairly snarled as he crossed one arm across his chest. The other arm had an IV in it, and he didn't want to tempt fate by moving it too much.

"First, I'm no longer you Chosen. I'm a new Defender."

"Wha...?" the dark-skinned hero voiced his confusion, shocked out of his sudden anger as quickly as he'd snapped into it.

"That's what I was trying to tell you." Richie sighed, running one of his hands through his hair. "When you got captured, Batman told me to get my gear together and that I'd be leading a team to go down to Dakota to rescue you."

"You... You rescued me?"

"Well, I did have some help, you know," the blond shrugged. "My team consisted of Speedy, J'onn, Black Canary, and Nightwing. We had a backup team, too, which was good, since they were needed to bail us out of there."

"Oh? What happened?"

"Well, suffice it to say, we got our asses handed to us." Richie curled his lip in a strange expression. "Nightwing, Black Canary, and Speedy are all in other rooms, bandaged up like mummies."

"Ouch..."

"Yeah, and J'onn..." Richie trailed off, his blue eyes going distant for a moment. With a visible shake, the young blond brought himself back to the topic at hand. "Well, let's just say I never, ever, for the rest of my life, want to have to fight him. Ever. Because, man, can he be creepy."

"J'onn?" Virgil asked. "Really? Huh... Well, he's always been a bit weird, but I always figured it was because he was an alien."

"You should have seen it, man. Actually, no, you shouldn't have. I know that -I'm- going to have nightmares about it for a while. Anyway, since it was successful, in that we got you out of there AND I caught one of the Breed, I've been...promoted, I guess? I'm no longer a Chosen. I'm a Defender."

Virgil nodded his head as if he was paying attention to the entire concept when in fact there was only one thing he was concentrating on. "So... What else?"

"Well, I've been offered my own room and my own allowance, for starters," Richie answered as he blushed scarlet, "but..."

"But...?"

"I was wondering if it was okay if we just roomed together, like before, and I use my other room as my own personal lab so I don't have to always rely on Batman for stuff, ya know?" Richie exhaled the words in one long rush. He couldn't meet Virgil's eyes as he said it; instead, he focused on an invisible spot on Virgil's blanket. "I mean, Green Lantern and Flash have separate rooms and all, but they might as well share the same one seeing as how they're together. We could do it like that if you wanted to, but--"

"Wait, hold up. What!" Virgil squawked, completely distracted.

Richie's eyes confusedly darted around the room. "...'Wait' what?"

"Rewind to that whole 'Green Lantern and Flash' business."

"Green Lantern and Flash are...together. And well..." Richie's blush intensified so that even his ears were flaming red. "We've been working towards that ourselves and--"

"Wait, just one more moment. My brain totally derailed there for a second. I thought you said Flash and Lantern hooked up."

"They have."

Virgil opened his mouth, but no words came out. Finally, when he was once again able to find his voice, he asked, "How do you know? I mean, you got proof?"

"I...kinda walked in on them."

"You did not!" Virgil exclaimed. When he saw the look on the blond's face, he couldn't help but burst into fit of laughter. "You did! Oh, man!"

"Shut up! It isn't funny!"

"Yeah, it is."

"No, it's not!" Richie defended himself. Taking a deep breath, he tried to get the conversation back on track, even though the dark-skinned Defender was still laughing. "ANYWAY. I've been given a new room, new clothes, and an allowance. I still need some special training, and Batman wants me to stay close to the Fortress, but... At the same time, he's already given me an assignment, and a... Well, not a mentor so much as a partner. His words."

"Yeah?" Virgil asked, his laughter subsiding. It was time to get serious again, even though the laughter sapped a lot of his growing strength. If Richie was going to be a Defender, he was going to ask who ever was in charge to see if he could be reassigned to Dakota. It wasn't that Virgil thought he needed help, or that he had any fear that someone else was going to steal Richie from him, but... He wanted to be close to the blond. And he wanted to know who to blame if anything happened to the bespectacled male. He wanted to know who he was going to have to hurt and/or kill if Richie didn't make it back. "Who?"

"Well... You, actually."

Virgil was quiet for a moment, just looking at the other male. But slowly, slyly, one of his bright, large smiles began to form. "I'm cool with that. You know me well enough to know that I'm not always the easiest person to get along with. And, think of how much fun we can have."

"I know." Richie nodded, relieved that Virgil was willing to accept him as another Defender. He was also rather thrilled at the idea of being Static's -partner- and not just a sidekick. "So...you don't mind?"

"Not at all. Of course, if they make a movie out of us, you do realize you aren't going to be included until the third one, right?"

The blond youth rolled his eyes and snorted. "Whatever."

"I'm all for you staying with me, and turning the other room into a lab. It'd definitely give you more privacy for your projects." Virgil grinned as he settled in to go back to sleep, and it was once again the brilliant smile Richie had become familiar with again. "Oh, Rich?"

"Yeah, V?"

"Mind if I ask ya something?"

"Sure, go for it," Richie replied, watching as Virgil began to fall asleep again, only this time it was a healing sleep instead of another frightening coma-like stasis.

"What's your code name?"

"Gear," Richie answered as he blushed, for what seemed to him, the umpteenth time. "I'm called Gear."

"Yeah?"

"It's because I don't really have a power, and all I really got is the hardware and computer stuff I design."

"That makes sense." nodded Virgil. "You gonna be here when I wake up?"

"Probably."

"Good. Because I'm gonna need you to tell me all of this again so I know that this wasn't all some kind of dream," Virgil murmured as he closed his eyes.

"You got it, bro." Richie grinned. "I'll definitely be here. Now, go to sleep."

Soon, the only sounds in the room were of the machines as they monitored Virgil's heartbeat, and the softer sounds of the invalid's breathing. Richie's grinned dimmed, though he felt more content than ever. As far as he was concerned, if this was a dream, he hoped to never wake up. "I'll always be here for you."

Fini

PS- No, there will not be a sequel.


End file.
